Round After Round
by comewithnattah
Summary: Sexy/Fluffy Richonne. 3 random days of their new romance.
1. The Trouble with Pancakes

8:13 a.m. Day 2

The shower-head stopped spraying. "Hey, beautiful, toss me a towel, plese." Rick stepped out from behind the glass partition to the helpful, towel-bearing hand of Michonne. She turned from the mirror above the sink where she was brushing her teeth, hair in a ponytail, to admire his exceptionally distracting body: his leg, arm and chest hair were sticking smoothly to his skin, his muscular thighs attached to his first- rate butt, those bulging, ripped abs and the holy trinity of his shoulders, chest and biceps that made war tanks look like origami. Another night of love-making down, they woke up more goofy and excited than they'd been when the big spoon cradled his little spoon and feel asleep- legs tangled, hair tussled and fingers intertwined.

Her ivory smile held her toothbrush between her teeth as she giggled, playfully offering him the towel then snatching it away each time he reached for it. He returned her smile, his dripping strands giving his hair a raven tint. All those dark curls falling in his face were making the blue of his eyes even more striking. After his fourth attempt to grab the towel, he gave her a half exasperated huff and relaxed his shoulders, tilting his head to inquire with a tisk,

"Are you gonna give me the towel or what?"

"Nope." She shot back with casual conviction, and removed her toothbrush to speak clearly. "Don't cover all that up." She commanded, indicating the area just below his waist with a gesture of her toothbrush. She turned coolly back to the mirror, tucked the towel under her arm that was furthest from his reach and resumed brushing.

"What!" Rick chuckled, disbelieving, disapproving and disarmed as he looked down at his sizeable hang. "C'mon, I'm cold." He begged at her back.

She spit in the sink and turned the faucet on for a second to rinse away the foam. She looked back over her shoulder at her favorite appendage of his, "You don't _look_ cold." She quipped with a droll sort of wickedness.

He stepped forward and tried to snatch the towel from under her arm but Michonne quickly stashed it between her belly and the sink, pressing it close to her, holding it hostage.

Rick wrapped her in his arms and spoke into her ear with a low grumble, "You're gonna regret this." He poked his wiggling fingers in her arm pits and ribs, tickling her, until she howled in laughter and agony. Her wicked laugh, her bright smile in the mirror and her delicious ass squirming against him made Rick stiffen against the cotton of her nightshirt.

'Okay. **OKAY**!" Michonne pleaded. "Here!" She surrendered, throwing the towel well over their heads, hoping to make her escape when he went to retrieve it.

Rick didn't even look back to see where it landed. "I don't want that anymore." His lustful gaze was now fixed on her gorgeous rear curves and he pressed his thick erection against her hip. Roughly, he pulled her face back, over her shoulder, grabbing her lips with his own. Michonne turned to face him but he directed her right back to face the mirror instead and slightly bent her upper body over the sink. He lifted her shirt, revealing a few of her scars that he'd spent more than a few naked hours unconsciously tracing with his finger tips. He moved ever so slowly, situating his buoyant pink cock right under her warm brown cheeks, making her moan and brace herself against the vanity bowl.

Referring to last night he asked her, "You ready for round three?" He let out a vibrating growl, sucking her ear lobe onto his tongue. His hand making the familiar trip around her body, he dipped into her turquoise satin panties and brought his fingers up slick with her sweet wetness. "Mmmmm. All this syrup and no pancakes." he teased as he placed the two coated fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean.

Michonne watched in the mirror and her eyes rolled back when she felt her clit pounding in time with her heart, making her pussy leak even more. "I'll make you all the pancakes you want... but you gotta work for them." She said breathlessly as her rugged lover slipped her hair over one shoulder and bit the back of her neck, aggressively pushing her pelvis uncomfortably into the sink with his own.

"Take these off..." He ordered, snapping the elastic of her panties against her supple shapely hip. He stood back to give her room, stroking his aching cock lightly, eager to feel the tight crush of her steamy walls.

Michonne obeyed, biting her bottom lip and staring him down through their reflection. As soon as her underwear hit the floor, she stepped out of them, raising herself on her tip toes as Rick slid himself against her gooey slit- back and forth, back and forth- his heat and hardness making Michonne whimper impatiently.

"Come on, babe. Don't fuck around." Michonne advised him, all the amusement gone from her voice.

"Nah," He looked at her defiantly and argued, "I think I **will** fuck around... ya know... since I gotta air dry." Rick placed a bearish grip on her hip and gave her just the round, heavy head of his length. He pulled out repeatedly, grinning to himself- repayment for her antics with his towel. He snaked his arm up the inside of her shirt, taking her meaty breast in his large powerful hand, clutching at it for dear life and pinching her pebbled nipple.

Michonne tried to bounce on him to take more of him in, but, "Nope." He restricted her, grabbing her with both hands, stilling her in place against the sink. He couldn't decide which view he loved more: Her face, both, distorted and relaxed- eyes shut tightly, mouth a perfect 'o' **or** her arched back channeling down to the dimples hollowed out like the perfect resting place for his thumbs as he held her steady and tortured her a little more.

"Oh... Rick, Mmm." Her breath feathered out off her tongue. She managed to say, "This is not pancake-worthy work, Mr. Grimes."

He didn't respond with any banter, just a raw thrust that made Michonne give up a throaty cry. And then there was more of that... and more of that- a rapid succession of driving blows against her swelling g-spot. Her legs were jello and she was being kept on her feet only by her hold on the granite sink and his granite dick, knocking her almost off the balls of her feet.

"Rick!" she called. "Oh fuck, Rick!" she shrilled. "Riiiiiiiick!" she supplicated.

Knowing full well the meaning of every sigh and every pitch, he answered, "What?" in a comedic deadpan tone between his labored breaths. Moving his eyes off the lower view of the rippling impacts breaking successively across her backside, he looked to her heavy, pleading eyes.

"I'm about to cum!" She hummed desperately.

Rick gave permission with his sexiest southern twang, "C'mon then."

He, impossibly, pounded harder and faster. He took both her hands from the sink and held them, wrist to wrist, arms straight behind her back. He used the leverage to pull her back onto his pillar-like dick. She couldn't climb the sink to run from his stroke. Michonne was getting every overwhelming inch. She couldn't catch her breath either, leaving her light-headed and euphoric. A seismic quake ripped through her body from her abdomen to her hamstrings, her nipples to her toes- even her scalp- all of her tingled.

"Shit, Chonne!... You ffffuu-" Rick joined her over that beautiful edge. He ran his palms all over her body as though he was trying to make sure she hadn't disintegrated with the power of her orgasm. Yes. She was still there, dripping all over him.

He stepped away from the mess he'd made and ran all ten of his fingers though his hair, applying pressure against his skull to make his brain stop rocking. He nearly lost his balance as his vision adjusted and he saw her collapsed over the sink, bottom up, face down. He slapped her ass cheek with three short smacks to get her attention. She could barely lift her head, her entire soul was drained and sluggish.

"Pancakes." He reminded her as he stepped back in the shower to rinse off.

"Stop playing." Michonne protested and dropped to her knees in the middle of the floor, mumbling, "Holy fuck." , fingers embedded in the plush fibers of their bath mat, still feeling ghostly tremors of his girth deep inside her. "Rick fucking Grimes." She whispered to herself, still amazed that this was life for her.


	2. Greatest Hits

**Happening upon some songs by Aaliyah helped me get Richonne right where I wanted them. If you're not familiar with Aaliyah's music check out-**

 ** _'More than A Woman'_**

 ** _'At Your Best (You Are Love)'_**

 ** _'I Care 4 You'_**

 **If you are familiar, blasting these songs still wouldn't hurt ;)**

 **Thanks for all the reviews. You guys brighten my day with your feedback.**

 **-comewithnattah**

 **"Let's go"**

* * *

2:47 p.m. Day 2

Michonne and Rick were pissed. They were learning that pissed would be their default mood when they left the Hilltop.

"I swear Gregory makes me want to bounce his head off the fuck'n walls!" Rick sizzled as he yanked the car door open, got in and slammed it shut.

Before getting in beside him, Michonne leaned into the passenger window resting on her elbows. "Maybe I should drive." She suggested through a cocked brow. "You relax."

Her 'maybe' wasn't optional. 'You relax' wasn't up for debate. So Rick jerked himself out from behind the wheel and began his short trip around the hood of the mid size sedan.

As Michonne passed him, making her way to the driver side, she grabbed his hand, pulling him back out of his angry gait. She trapped him between her and the car. Rick fumed and sat, hunched over on the hood of the car with her standing between his knees. "Hey calm down, okay. Don't let that man-child stress you." She shook her head with confidence, shrugging her shoulders, having no doubts, "We'll get what we want. Right?" She smiled sweetly trying to get him to soften, pulling at him playfully by his waistband. "Right?"

He ran his hand over his beard, looking past her, down the road. He didn't really want to look at her yet. He knew what those glowing browns would do to him and he wanted to ruminate a little longer about Gregory spitting out teeth.

"It's still a beautiful day." She beamed like the sun above them, tossing her head back to look up at the white clouds scattered through what would have been the perfect shade of blue until she rediscovered true perfection in his aggravated orbs.

Rick still wouldn't budge. He hadn't doubted that finding groups to trade with was another slice of pie being added to his plate: They'd found a secure place to call a home, Carl and Judith were happy and now, Michonne was his. **He** had been hers for some time now and she didn't even know how completely she owned him. After everything, she'd promised, _'I'm still with you'._ Somehow, he didn't think it was possible for things to ever be less than perfect again. Of course, there was a lot of hubris in that estimation. But he had been fucking a goddess queen for the past few days (and she was loving it). How could he ever be humble again?

The new experience of sex with Michonne was making life seem like a dream and he didn't enjoy being snatched back to reality whenever he made a trip to Gregory's neck of the woods. He raged, but internally he thought to himself how cute it was that she was trying so hard to bring him back to their self-made heaven.

"So. For the record, you're not going to enjoy this ride back home with me?" She gave him a priority check. "I want to punch that jerk in the dick too, but I'm not gonna let him ruin what started out to be a lovely day."

Rick looked down at his boots resting on the front bumper, unable to avoid the sight of the little V-shape meeting between her thighs.

"Remember pancakes this morning?" She playfully bounced her eyebrows.

That finally broke his stubborn silence. "You mean the pancakes **Daddy** cooked for everybody?" He took a jab at her for her earlier promise of breakfast in exchange for a job well done and then her lazy repeal after services were rendered. "The tray of breakfast-in-bed pancakes **you** woke up to after you took a nap this morn'n? Are **those** the pancakes you're talk'n 'bout?'

"Yes!" She fell deeper into him and yanked the collar of his shirt, " _ **Those**_ pancakes." She pressed her full smiling lips to his and breathed him in. " **I** had an awesome morning! I'm not gonna let Greg the Goober ruin my day."

She finally coaxed a miniature chuckled from him. The sound was a mainlined hit, one of many drugs Rick had her strung out on. It gave her the warmest feeling in the pit of her stomach and egged her on to make him give her another dose. "I say fuck Greg... and the horse he rode in on! What you think?" Now she broke Rick into full on laughter. "Fuck Greg, right?" She scrunched her nose at the words as though they'd just come to her and she was testing them out to make certain.

"Yeah, Fuck that guy." Rick jerked his head with indignation in the direction of the Hilltop gates.

Michonne squinted her eyes, looking to her bearded partner, "What about the horse he rode in on?"

"Fuck that fuck'n horse!" Rick played along.

"Are you sure?" Michonne asked feigning sincere concern. "Because we can go back in there and fuck his shit up!" She pounded a fist into her hand.

"Nah, let's go home." Rick slid off the hood, stood up and placed her neck in the crook of his arm, leading her back to get in the car and get going.

Michonne really ran with this parody now. "Because we can pop in that DMX CD I found and 'stop, drop, open up shop' on him..." She swayed with a 90's gangsta lean. "For real boo, the two of us could go in there and... you karate chop him right in the Adam's apple," she gave a slight demonstration swinging at an imaginary foe with a Bruce Lee war cry, "then I'll pull out the sword and rip up that stupid antique couch." She shouted with fervor, popping up in the air, jumping, unsettling the dust at their feet and pointing up the hill with her other hand on the hilt of her sword.

Rick threw his arms around her petite frame, holding her like a straight jacket, still laughing in earnest. He scooped her up laying kisses on her cheek, dragging her back to the car. He set her down on her feet, "Are you finished, you maniac?"

She silenced her antics and spoke softly into his chest, "I'm finished if you are."

Their ride to the Hilltop was full of chatter and wisecracks and devising a way to get Gregory to agree that Alexandria was good for an I.O.U. in exchange for more food and seed. Actually Gregory didn't have a doubt that the new community in the trading circle would accomplish everything they promised. He was just an ass.

Now on the ride back home, a disappointed Rick sat in a reclined position, knees spread wide, crowding the passenger side with his long legs in snug jeans. They were enjoying a comfortable and comforting silence driving through the deserted landscape around them. Michonne decided to push in the untitled CD protruding from the player. A soft melancholy voice burst through the speakers,

Let me know, let me know  
Ah - ha, let me know, let me know  
Let me know

Michonne luxuriated in the soulful croon. "Haven't heard this in forever." She sang along a word or two, then trailed off. "Who had this car last?"

"Sasha, I think." Rick grumbled and the car quieted again. Aaliyah's ghostly voice from the turn of the millennium, clear and crisp, began to speak right to him.

When you feel what you feel  
Oh, how hard for me to understand  
So many things have taken place before this love affair began

But if you feel, oh, like I feel  
Confusion can give way to doubt  
For there are times when I fall short of what I say,  
what I say I'm all about, all about

"This is pretty." Rick commented on the song. He grabbed Michonne's unoccupied hand and nestled it in the palm of his own. Bringing her out of her quiet thoughts, she looked over at her, now, mellow fellow.

Michonne closed her eyes and swayed with the melody. "Mmmhmm." She agreed and the pair quieted again riding out the melody til the last note.

Completely thawed by the first track from Aaliyah's Greatest Hits, Rick lightly drifted his fingers over his lady's espresso skin making a trail up to the bend of her arm. She immediately got goosebumps even in the warmth of the afternoon. The next song on the disc began with a funky groove of a beat, the chorus chanting,

I'll Be  
(I'll Be More) More Than Your Lover  
(More) More Than A Woman  
(More) More Than Your Lover  
I'll Be  
(I'll Be More) More Than A Lover  
(More) More Than A Woman  
(More) More Than Enough for you

She gave a cheerfully content greeting to the return of the more 'chill' version of her boyfriend, "Hey." She smiled prettily.

Rick's heart leapt so fiercely at her acknowledgment that he turned red. The vibe from the song perking his mood, "Hey, beautiful."

It seemed he couldn't stop calling her that. His eyes saw it and his mouth relayed it. It felt so juvenile... so unsophisticated to say it so much. He thought of Michonne as a woman of elegant sophistication- even when she was covered in brains and guts. He felt like maybe she thought it was silly, but even when he tried to swallow it, 'beautiful' came bubbling off his lips.

"What ya think'n 'bout over there?" Rick had been watching her for the past few minutes. She hadn't noticed. Every once in a while he saw her try to enjoy the music, but she was too wrapped up in her thoughts. She sat with a contemplative stare, the speeding car's open window blowing her locs around her face.

Michonne grinned. "Well, there's a list... You want the top three?"

"Go." Agreeing to listen, he turned down the player an octave and leaned his back against the door to fully face her. He loved to hear her talk. He loved to hear where her mind went when she had the time to take ten. He always found it telling that she was never thinking of anything frivolous. She was always working on a plan of action. More than he could say for himself. Since he gave her those mints, he had to overpower every thought of her to get anything done. She was a catch 22: Thank God he had her there to pick up his slack... but then again she was the reason he was slacking in the first place.

Michonne blushed at his attentiveness, "Uhhh... gotta get some of Carol's mayo when we get back. I guess that canned chicken will be dinner." She looked at him for a read on his inclination toward chicken salad.

Rick licked his lips and nodded, staring intently. Michonne took it as a thumb's up on dinner. True, Rick was thinking about eating... but not chicken salad.

"This car sounds a little squeaky. You hear that whine? We might need another timing belt soon..." Michonne added another concern to the list, sending his mind back to the peepshows she'd given him every time he found her leaning into the machinery of a car with her heart-shaped butt beckoning.

Once, he'd made an _seemingly_ off-hand remark about the brakes on one of the community cars knowing she'd shimmy under there to check and he'd get a nice long stare at her thighs in his favorite pair of shorts, her knees bent... he had stood there fantasizing about planting his face between her legs and breathing deep, maybe stealing a kiss, maybe sampling a taste, maybe feasting til there were no leftovers. Last night he realized that fantasy... again. He had licked and suckled and kissed her pussy so thoroughly that his jaw was tight today and every time he spoke and felt that slight discomfort, he remembered the flavor of her juices on his tongue.

Rick brought her fingers up to his lips and gave her knuckles a whisper of kisses. Michonne fell silent, she bit the inside of her bottom lip trying to remember how to drive.

"The mayo, the car... That's two..." Rick prodded her. "You said top three."

Her cheeks blazed, when a careless glance met his eyes and made her come undone. "You're distracting me. I forgot the third thing." She fussed as butterflies did drop-kicks in her stomach. She quickly turned the focus on him. "What are you thinking about over there?

"Round 4." He confessed with no hesitation and no shame as he regarded her from what he had thought was a safe distance. But now he knew, when he saw how her breasts rose high and fell with a nervous exhale at the mention of more sex, that he was still hunting her. She knew it and she'd been encouraging him... to sink his teeth into her and put her down.

"That came out of nowhere." She puffed in an effort to tip-toe around his comment. She loved being chased by him but it kind of scared her too. Michonne didn't scare easily but she was starting to seriously wonder _has anybody ever been fucked to death? Is that a thing? Could I literally get lost in an orgasm and never come back from it?_ Rick was making her re-imagine the term 'dangerously in love'.

Before she had her mints, she used to fantasize about all the the ways she would jump his bones. _Careful white boy,_ she used to think to herself when he got too close in the prison, his scent invading her nostrils. She would bring her palm to her throat to lull the blood rushing through her jugular and startling her heart. _You are not safe,_ she'd say to him with her eyes when he wasn't looking, when she should have been listening to something he was saying. She knew now, that she had everything backwards. He was subduing her and the need for **him** to be cautious of **her** was only in her world of make believe.

'Nah, it came from somewhere." He sat up and leaned into her space, "Somewhere right around..." He put a hand on her thickset thigh, coasting upward to her roiling sex and finished, "...here."

She squirmed under his touch, with a nervous giggle. "Rick, this is a side of you I've never seen." She confessed in a ruffled tone.

He snapped out of his anticipation long enough to realize, "This is a side of me **I've** never seen." He went right back to rubbing her addictive sweet honeypot through the fabric of her pants.

She rolled her hips onto his touch and quietly asked, "So should I get used to this..." She gasped at his indulgence, "...or is this terrible behavior due to the novelty of... everything."

He came closer and spilled a strong suggestion in her ear, "I'm gonna say... you should prob'ly get used to it."

Michonne was starting to become skeptical. _Nobody goes this hard. Round 4? He can't..._ "Maybe we should save some for later." She offered timidly. But her "maybe" was definitely optional as the dampness on his fingers was beginning to indicate. Her seriousness to 'save some" was completely debatable and she was hoping he'd call her bluff, her flirtatious smile giving her away.

"Terrible idea." Rick plucked at the button of her pants and pulled the zipper down.

"Rick?" She broke, unsure, causing him to pause. Her nervous giggle returned, "You're trying to wear me out." She declared, trying to keep her eyes open. Why question it. It was obvious he was single-minded and she was being swayed to the same line of thought with very little effort on his part. She'd had more sex in the handful of days they'd been together than she would have in a good month with Mike.

"More like trying to break you in." He informed her serious as a life sentence. His hands were still working magic, making her feel weightless, like she might disappear.

Michonne's lungs failed her. "Oh really?" Her shaky voice answered back. She was shocked he had the balls to... "Break me in, huh?"

"Pull over."

"It's not safe on the road." She shook her head, reminding him through hurried breaths. Daryl had run into an ugly crew out there. Thankfully he made it back safely. But she didn't like the idea of being so vulnerable outside of Alexandria.

"Maybe not safe for you..." He promised her, "definitely not safe for anybody that interrupts us. You gonna make me ask twice?"

"You didn't ask the first time." She pointed out giving him a innocent side-eye. " _Pull over_ is not a question."

He lowered his head and his shoulders danced with amusement. She was right. He didn't ask. He hoped he wasn't being too pushy, too cocky with her. He was used to being so careful with her- what he said, how he said it- never wanting to disappoint her or gain her disapproval. Nothing had changed in that respect. But now he had the feeling that he was revealing a new Michonnne, unraveling her sexual persona and it was nothing like the warrior queen he had come to know. A gruff response sent her moaning. Authority in his voice made her melt. A firm grip made her submissive. He knew she wouldn't give in to him unless it was what she really wanted.

But _'Pull over' is not a question_.

"Do I have to ask?" He inquired in a more cock-sure tone that he meant to. It was so hard to come down off his command of her. He rephrased, "Should I?"

Now it was Michonne's turn to be amused. His sapphire puppy-dog eyes met hers and smouldered, giving away how much he cared. She was grabbed immediately by her natural response. Of course, he didn't have to ask. That was clear enough. Bringing up that he hadn't asked permission was more about her own surprise at his control over her than an attempt to chastise him. She would've never let another man feel like he had any rule over her.

But Rick? He had free rein.  
 _  
This is a side of me_ _ **I've**_ _never seen_. She took his words and turned them over in her mind, making them her own. She enjoyed sex with her exes but they simply were not Rick Grimes. They hadn't earned her trust like he had. Not to mention in hindsight, based on new evidence from her well-hung beau's skill set- she had been paying full price for amateur hour all those years before the turn. Yes, she was willing to let this man pull and push her, dismantle her and mold her anyway he liked. Now that her life was so minty, it was safe for her to realize what she already knew- they weren't just having sex (lots of incredible sex), she _**loved**_ him, deeply. She kept that ace in the hole, though.

But _should he ask?_

She thought of a dozen ways to answer him with wit or whimsy. Instead her face sobered and she said as plainly as she could, "No, Rick. You shouldn't... you don't have to ask."

 _Game on_. Before that green light could even flash, he stopped touching her and slouched back in his seat, "We're almost home. I want you _right now._ _ **Pull**_ _._ _ **Over**_."

The car left the road and came to a stop in a bushy clearing within seconds.

The metallic clack of his buckles being undone, instantly made her mouth water like a Pavlov experiment. He placed his Colt Python on the dash next to her sword, never out of sight or reach. Rick didn't rush, still he freed his thick growing shaft from his jeans in no time at all.

"Let's go." He commanded, guiding her with a tilt of his head. He flashed his prime cock with dominion, like he used to flash his badge, yielding the same results: SURRENDER.

She scrambled to slide her bottoms over her hips, no easy task in her seated position, with her pants so tight and the steering wheel in the way. It seemed to take a thousand years for her to finally be in his lap, her hands braced against his chest, hovering close to his face, mindful of the low ceiling.

He slid his palms up both sides of her sunken navel with all the speed of rising smoke. Her shirt landed in the back seat with his. Rick relieved her of her bra as well, knowing how much she seemed to savor it when **he** got her naked. Each of her breasts were now in his needy grasp. He pushed her back against the dash and began to devour her nectar-sweet lips. The smash of their bodies eclipsing his other 'Python', yet that monster's fire could be felt roaring between them.

She moved to push back against him, wordlessly trying to convey that there was no need to 'break her in'. She could go toe to toe with everything he was packing. Once he reclined completely, her goal was in sight once more. His warm member seizing against her inner thigh. In the torrid tug of war, Michonne's elbow hit the volume dial and the speakers came alive again. The heavy bass, slow and sensual, shook their ride. The same haunting voice serenaded the lovers, sultry ad libs introducing the song. Inside the cab of the car, the sonance was distinct, enveloping the forceful leader and his precious sultana. But outside, only a muffled rumble could be heard.

Hmm yeah  
Hmm yeah  
Oh

Hey my baby  
Why you lookin' so down?  
Seems like you need some lovin'  
Baby you need a girl like me around

Rick smirked up at Michonne as he watched her turn to putty in his hands. Trembling like a newborn fawn, she slid down on the tall, proud monument he'd erected to her beauty. "Rick..." She called for him, already winded, as his meaty width stretched her already tender walls. She couldn't believe how completely he filled her up. His love was so powerfully built and bruising, that her breath gave out as her heart banged in her ears.

As he conjured up this carnal storm, her senses were overloaded: the dizzying scent of her balmy sex hanging in the air like a summer rain (a different kind of tang, she noticed, now that his seed had been thoroughly mixed with her wetness for days); the crushing weight of his grip on her- pulling her onto to him like a man deprived; the faint taste of blood as she habitually bit down on the inside of her lip, the constant blitz of coitus giving the little laceration no time to heal sufficiently; the rasp of him quietly cursing her name for the madness that accompanied the pleasure she gave him and the mood-setting din of the anthem vibrating every surface in that tiny space like rolling thunder-

Can I talk to you? (Can I talk to you)  
Comfort you  
Let you know (just want to let you know baby)  
I

care

for

you (ooh)

Michonne grabbed the armrest on the passenger door, her other arm bracing the console between the seats, she pushed herself up, struggling to retreat just a little from the conquering size of him.

"No, baby." Rick spoke gently, his eyes focused on his unyielding cock invading her velvety folds, "Don't run from it." The sympathetic message of the ballad seemed to improve his manners. He placed her arms around his neck taking away her leverage. "Stay right here with me, baby."

Hold on (hold on)

Stay strong (stay strong)

She stopped her slow rise and fall, relaxing her straddle; she settled her bronzed thighs flush against his. A plaintive whine more dire than the timing belt's escaped her throat and echoed in Rick's mind. "I got you. You're okay." He assured her, his mouth on hers. He pushed her back against the dash again. "Let's go." He growled, giving the same command in a more gentle, but no less intimidating tone. Because he had the same intent as before- to shatter her with an orgasm that would tether her to him forever- or longer if God was kind.

Press on (for me baby)  
I care for you (I care for you)

With a clear view to their merging anatomies, he squeezed her clit lightly and then pressed it with his thumb in slow deliberate circles. Rick remembered how hungrily Michonne had wrapped her lips around his length the first time (once he stopped bombarding her body long enough for her to do so). He remembered he was not prepared. The drag of her tongue was so provocative, he nearly crumbled in the first twenty seconds. Her eyes had watched him try to center himself. His powerful blues made so weak, he hid them behind his lids. She loved to practice her skill, like she did with her katana. There was no trepidation when she had her blade in hand. Rick decided to calm her by setting her mind on her expertise, distracting her from the cataclysm he was about to unleash.

His right hand was still flat against her abdomen as he stroked that high voltage, hidden nub. He slipped his index and middle fingers past her pouting lips. With no instruction given she instinctively began to suck his salty calloused digits... hard. She rolled her eyes closed, holding his left hand steady at her mouth. The corner of his mouth curved at her reaction.

Rick became a piston now, thrusting upward with banging impacts that kept her moaning louder and louder until her eyes sprang open and she began to cry out his name in near hysterics.

Hold on (hold on)

Stay strong (stay strong)

He was on the job now. On the clock. Putting in work. He placed his hands on her shoulders, keeping her close, making the gravity of the situation all the more intense. "I got you." He reminded her.

Michonne resorted to calling on a higher power. "Oh God!" She whimpered, "God!" Her emotions were tangled- not sure if her body would survive this; her heart not wanting to beat if he stopped. She was reduced to begging, "Oh Rick, please! Pleeease!"

"What, baby?" He spoke with her nipple between his teeth.

She didn't know what she was begging for, hell, she barely knew her name- 'til he said it.

"What 'Chonne? You want me baby? You love this dick, don't you?"

She did and she loved him too. But in this moment his war-ready cock had the control of her. Her voice was caught in her throat, too much emotion swelling to choke her. She could only nod, barely recognizable as he bounced her feverishly on his constraining cock.

"Can't hear you, baby." He toyed with her. "Guess I should _ask_... " His breath not even close to giving out, "You want me to fuck you like _**this**_ , right?"

The question or maybe the answer in her head sent her toppling from a height she'd never known with any other man. She began to doubt the existence of any other man, except for the one inside her right now- deeper than her pussy, deeper than her heart, beyond her mind. She was out of her mind in love with him and tears began to flow as she came crashing over him like waves.

Rick was right behind her, erupting white hot lava with a fulfilled grunt, both hands in her hair. He rocked her, like a baby and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I got you now." He told her. She didn't know if he'd said it to soothe her or if he was speaking like the wolf speaks to the rabbit. She knew it was a promise, either way, and she decided to get ready.

I

care

for

you


	3. The Man with the Plan

12:47 Day 1

"She must know." Michonne smirked and snorted out a laugh. The pleasingly proportioned shape of her, draped in the cling of white jersey shorts and a certain denim shirt, leaned on the doorpost of Judith's room drying her hands with a dish towel.

Rick pressed his eyes closed to gather himself and find a little zen. Judith vibrated like she had an internal motor, cracking up on the floor beside him. Her eyes were noticeably heavy, maybe she was deliriously sleepy because she was in the silliest mood. Stacking blocks then knocking them over was comedy of the highest caliber to her at the moment.

Turning nose to nose with the little one, he exhaled with a disgruntled sigh, "You're killing me, little girl." Michonne gave a throaty laugh to his frustration.

After baby Grimes fell asleep in her high chair over steamed veggies and ramen- the latter having stuck to her forehead, cheeks and hair- her tickled mother had wiped her down. Performing a miracle by not waking her up. But Rick, impatiently wanting to speed things along for alone time with mommy, carefully pulled his sleeping daughter from the high chair and took her upstairs to lay her down, while Michonne cleaned up the rest of the mess. As soon as her dad reached the top of the steps, Judith open her eyes and lit up in his arms. She seemed to have been revived, renewed with energy and the intent to play all afternoon. Now Rick sat on the carpet with his back against her changing table in a flood of toys, mentally willing her to go to sleep.

When Rick walked through his front door this morning he was immediately greeted by the sight of his family. Carl was seated at the table in the kitchen with a pen and paper and Michonne stood over him, pointing at whatever he was writing with one hand, Judith supported on her hip with the other. The composition of his most intimate crew wasn't any different than it had been when they first got to Alexandria: his son, his daughter and the woman who was beyond description and more than a friend to everyone in the house. But now she was something unique and sacred to Rick and Rick alone. Before he made his presence known, he stood in the foyer of their home and indulged in the sight of her.

In his mind, he heard the sophic words of a man who had found his true love quickly in the aftermath of the apocalypse. A man who had been smart enough and fearless enough not to waste anytime making that woman his wife. He heard the voice of Glenn Rhee.

* * *

Duty had placed one bothersome call after another, non stop, right at the door of Alexandria's leader for the past two of days. A malfunctioning grid on the solar panel, that required a very specific piece of hardware to fix, had sent Rick, Eugene and Glenn out on an unexpectedly long run. Rick was not the best company, silently cursing every office supply and electronic store that didn't have what they needed, knowing it would keep him away from her a few more hours. He was tolerably testy with Glenn who was being very understanding and somewhat snippy with Eugene who was being mildly annoying.

Once they struck gold in a ransacked Best Buy, Rick was outvoted two to one to spend the night there instead of driving through the dense dark of night in unfamiliar territory. They had cleared and secured the large depot and bedded down for the night after a grueling day of driving, killing walkers and babysitting their resident geek. Rick and Glenn would have loved to leave Eugene back in Alexandria but he was the only one who knew what to look for and was there just in case they didn't find exactly what they needed. There was the possibility that he'd have to improvise.

Rick had volunteered to take first watch since he knew he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon without the warmth of her legs wrapped around his or her scent pacifying and lulling him to sleep. But Glenn knew the look of a man going through withdrawals. He was in recovery himself and experienced frequent relapses.

"Only one thing can make a man that miserable in the middle of the night." Glenn said to a noticeably glum Rick over the windy snore of Eugene. He crushed his jacket behind his neck and wiggled down into a comfortable position.

Rick scoffed audibly at being called miserable. There wasn't a word in the English language suitable for his agony. Then he gave a secret scoff at hearing Michonne's voice in his head saying 'Don't be so dramatic, Grimes.' But the dippy look on his chosen brother's face made him decide to bite. He turned to Glenn, "Really? What's that?"

In answer, he leaned in Rick's direction and whispered, "Love." Glenn brought the tips of his fingers together and floated them down through the air, drawing an invisible heart-shape in the space between them.

Rick wanted to laugh but wouldn't give Glenn the satisfaction.

"Only one thing that can cure that misery." Glenn added. "And I love you man, but I the most I can offer you is like, a hug."

Rick grumbled instead of chuckling like he could have.

"Reminds me of this song I know..." Glenn tapped his chin as if he were searching his mind for the lyrics, "It goes- Rick and Michonne sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G... You can sing along if you know the words, Rick."

Rick faked a laugh to hide his actual amusement. "Ha Ha... asshole. Know any songs about annoy'n Korean guys?"

"Only one. It goes- Glenn and Maggie sitting in a tree K-I-..." They both broke into laughter. "Look dude, I know how you feel." Glenn sympathized. "Trust me, I would definitely rather be home with my wife than stuck here with you... and him." Glenn nodded towards a drooling Eugene in the fetal position. "But how much would it suck if we pushed to get home and then got stuck somewhere or even worse, got gobbled up by walkers? I'd be in so much trouble with Maggie. We gotta pick our battles with our women, Rick..."

"What," Rick chuckled out, "...are you gonna give _me_ relationship advice?" Rick asked doubtfully. "Suddenly 'cuz you're married now, _you're_ the go-to guy for advice huh?" He teased. "You know I used to be a married man too, right?"

"Look, Rick, no offense- but you _used_ to be a married man and let's be honest Lori was nothing like Michonne." Glenn rolled over on his elbow, suddenly more excited by the conversation, "See, I got a theory about women like Michonne, Maggie, Sasha, Carol... I think the turn... _did_... something to' um. Like changed' um." He said narrowing his eyes like he was speaking of legend. "So," he shrugged, "you pick your battles, dude... and really the only battles where every body wins are the battles fought in the bedroom."

"Do I wanna hear this?" Rick jokingly asked, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of this conversation.

"I think you already heard it." Glenn said to him knowingly.

Rick raised a curious brow. "Did I?" He felt like he should be grasping something from all this but damned if he knew what Glenn was getting at.

Glenn gave a patient sigh. "Look, right now, you're like... a boxer!" He adopted the metaphor, determined to make it work to get his point across to Rick. "You're in your corner right now." Glenn sat up and gestured, setting the scene. "You're anticipating her next moves, calculating your own... And when you get back to her... that's when the bell dings... You come out the corner swinging. TKO's, round after round." Mimicking jabs and uppercuts, he reiterated, "Round after round, dude. Don't let her catch her breath."

Rick thought it was priceless to hear this from Glenn, of all people. But still, he heard him. He had really been holding back with Michonne. He had been holding back since their days in the prison. The penitentiary was such a poetic location for pent up feelings. But even now, with things being so new, he thought a more measured approach was called for. So he made love to Michonne long and deep and he was positive she enjoyed it. But in the hindsight of Glenn's comments, he saw that the ache of being away from her was heightened because of the unconscious frugality of everything he was giving her. He was behaving like a regular guy with a regular girl- birds and the bees stuff- when they were both definitely higher up the food chain. Rick's meal came to him willingly and frequently to be devoured. What was he thinking leaving their bed with a doggy bag? Never again.

He looked over at Glenn, who was drifting peacefully. Rick stopped pouting and started plotting. He stayed up the rest of his watch thinking about her, constructing scenarios, hatching prophecies about her reactions to the full width, breadth, height and weight of him. And when his 3 hours were up it was no problem at all for him to fall asleep. He wanted to be well-rested when he saw her. So he dozed off, much as his first friend in this world had- smiling.

* * *

All morning Rick and Michonne had flirted with each other. Domesticity bringing them into the ring but only to dance around each other thanks to their little blonde-haired referee. She seemed determined to interrupt any kiss or touch that lasted more than a second.

"Yeah, you know. Don't you, Jude?" Now entering the baby's room, Michonne illuminated with a teasing gaze and sank down to her knees and then onto all fours. She crawled seductively through the scattering of blocks, books, plush toys and puzzles until she hovered over Rick's lap, leaving the roundness of her rear like a mirage before him. Rick threw his head back at the torture of her proximity and position. He rolled his eyes the length of her. Starting at the chocolate cheeks spilling from the hem of her tiny shorts, he made notes. His eyes wandered to her petite waist peeking from the tied front tails of Rick's stolen denim shirt. He stopped at her lips, puckered to give their little nap-evader a kiss.

"Heard that, Jude? You're killing daddy." Michonne swung her locs over her shoulder to see Rick's tormented face without obstruction, meeting his lustful stare and the sight of his tongue sweeping his bottom lip.

Wild with hunger, he reached up to grab a piece of the cake she was presenting him, but instead he shifted in his jeans to get a little relief and warned her, "Don't be cute."

She taunted him, "Thought you liked me cute, Sheriff." She had no idea that he'd spent half the night composing formidable strategies that would guarantee his victory, round after round. His eyes were like frozen fire consuming her, but he only shook his head with a skewed smile as she obliviously ensured her own undoing.

Michonne sat back on her heels, kneeling before him. She reached out and said to Judith dryly, "Can't let you kill daddy, Honey." She lifted their daughter into her arms and the baby immediately rested her plump cheeks on Michonne's shoulder. Rick watched in amazement as the black magic before him stood on her feet and swayed his daughter sound asleep in less than one minute.

Rick stood up too, "Why didn't you do that twenty minutes ago?" he asked, his boots producing a short-lived beat as he walked over to Michonne who was marveling at the angelic face resting on her body. She shrugged nonchalantly at Rick's question and raised an affectionate hand to smooth gently up and down Judith's back, enjoying her stillness for a moment. Rick had already paid worship to this scene hours ago from his front door. With no further ado, he was ready to enter the shrine and make an offering. Walking pass her, he pressed a kiss to Judith's head, before applying a different kind of kiss with those same lips to Michonne's unoccupied shoulder. He snaked his arm around her waist, up under the knot she'd made just above her bellybutton with the fabric of ' _her_ ' shirt. He ghosted his finger across her skin and below the flesh and muscle, her womb began to flutter, her deep pink lotus flower began to bloom.

"I missed you." Country twang confessed. His breathy undertone suggested that his need for her was strangling his self control. "Been a long night without you."

Michonne radiated. She'd had a rough time of it last night as well. But she couldn't afford to be sluggish with her toddler on the loose. She had to get some sleep. So she made love to herself as his proxy, with two fingers as her only sense of touch and flashbacks of the pervading scents, sights, spice and sounds of sex with Rick Grimes. She forged his signature on the orgasm that finally got her to sleep, but she could not ignore what a cheap knock-off it was. She let him know with a ready sigh, "I missed you, too."

"Lay her down," He caressed Judith's soft curls with one hand and pulled the back of Michonne flat against him with the other, "... and come with me so I can take care of you. I owe you." Rick walked across the hall to their room and began to undress.

When she shut and locked their bedroom door behind her, what she saw made heat rise hot into her cheeks. She approached where he sat, naked, at the foot of the bed. He held onto the mattress' edge with his large hands, his arms straight out to his sides, in a lazy, impatient slouch that displayed the well-defined grouping of his abs. He leered up at her from under his brow and dangle of curls.

He took her hands and led her to stand right between his thighs, where his manhood laid extended and swollen but not yet fully erect. She tried to keep her eyes focused on his, but the sight of him in all his glory made her knees weak.

He broke into her thoughts, "Am I ever gonna get my shirt back?" He looked up into her face and she gave him a bashful grin.

She rolled her eyes, retreating from his, looking off to his nightstand and pretending to focus on an object there. Had there been a quiz on the contents of that nightstand, she would have failed completely. Her vision was becoming hazy as he began to unbutton the shirt in question, slowly.

"I guess no answer means no?" He concluded, his voice snapping her out of hypnosis again.

"Smells like you." She edged off her tongue, shakily as he kissed her bare stomach. "I like the way you smell... feels like you too."

He chuckled at her words and breathed her in deep, "Mmmm." he acknowledged. Then speaking into her belly with the rumble of an oncoming train and the hiss of a dragon, he wondered, "What do I smell like?"

Michonne looked down into a blue abyss as Rick looked up into a copper-toned heaven. She held onto his curls, "Good." was her absentminded answer.

"What do I fell like?"

"I don't know." She couldn't think through his touch anymore. "Remind me and I'll tell you."

Moments later, her head was lying between their pillows, her thighs tightening and relaxing on Rick's bearded face. She had asked him to remind her, but that's not what he was doing. She didn't know what he was doing. But Rick knew. He was neck-deep into round one of her re-education.

The last time he gave her this kind of attention, he had rebuked himself the entire time. ' _Slow and steady, Rick'_ he calmed himself as he languidly lapped and tongued her tentatively. ' _Relax, she's yours. She's not going anywhere'_ he'd found it helpful to remind himself. He had made more noise than she did, trying to simply taste and not devour, lamenting the agreement that he'd made with himself to ' _Go easy on her'._ When he was done, Michonne had let out a grateful purr and seemed content...

This time things were not so serene or civil. His tongue honored no boundaries, his lips were rapacious, she even sustained a bite or two on her well-padded posterior. Michonne rose her head to watch him. She saw sapphire peering back at her, minding her every twitch, thrust and outburst. She had never seen any man so dutiful about exploring every possibility of pleasing her. Her emotions demanded more but her body was at risk of tapping out. Her muscles compressed and her toes curled and she ruptured from bliss without warning.

"Sorry." She forced out the word, flat on her back, into the air, "I was trying... I tried to tell you I was close." She attempted to atone for the overflow that left his whiskers and nose glistening.

"Oh, baby. I could tell. You didn't have to tell me." He kissed her inner-thigh and then the other. He relished in letting her in on his proud secret, "Chonne, you're witnessing the successful execution of a master plan." He wiped his beard with his hand and climbed her body, leaving moist trails and teeth impressions along the way. She blew out a quivering breath as tears rolled into her ears. His voice was distorted and echoing, her climax still disorienting her. He kissed her mouth, suppressing his full-grown cock in the grip of his hand. He pushed into her and she anchored him into her depths. "So what do I feel like, swee'heart?"

No answer came, but she did-

Over and over again.

A winner was declared.

Round one belonged to the man with the plan.


	4. Mr Apples

**This chapter made me chase it, but eventually I got it right where I wanted and had my with it. LOL ;] Hope yall like it.**

 **-comewithnattah**

* * *

7:23 p.m. Day 1

Michonne woke up dehydrated and dizzy. She had a hazy memory of Rick looking down at her saying something about shirts... and plans... and rounds as he was getting dressed. She knew in the back of her mind there was definitely verbiage available to describe the things he'd done to her body, but Michonne wasn't sure there was any way to describe what she _felt_. The only thing that was absolutely clear was that she wanted more.

She never doubted that Rick would be able to satisfy her in bed. The times he'd simply brushed against her in passing, had made her lose her breath. Not to mention the way he burned her down with blue flames when he looked at her- she had every reason to believe that sex with him would be amazing. Those thoughts of him were enough to get her off more than once, when he wasn't even around. A handful of mints later, he'd proved she was right.

But days after their first time, Rick came back from a run with a vengeance and an unexpected power in his tongue. After being body slammed by multiple orgasms, she was rendered completely feeble- before he even gave her one inch of his dick. She didn't know her body could react that way. She didn't know anything could feel like that.

Michonne was doped up on the dopest dope. When she finally made it out of the bed, she wondered how long she'd been sleeping.

"Shit!" She jumped as she remembered that Maggie had asked her for help in the garden. She threw on some clothes and boots, leaving Judith in Carl's capable hands and headed out in hurry to meet her pregnant friend.

When she finally got there, Maggie and Carol were packing up tools and preparing to leave. "Sorry, Maggie." Michonne apologized with a sigh as she caught her breath from the jog she'd taken over there.

Maggie and Carol shared sagacious smiles and rolled their eyes knowingly towards Michonne."That's okay, hun." Maggie assured her.

Michonne turned to Carol, "Thanks for filling in for me. Time just got away from me."

"No problem." Carol stifled a little laughter.

"At least let me take all the equipment back to the shed." Michonne suggested, taking the spades and tillers from their hands and awkwardly filling her arms. "You guys could have just come to get me."

"Yeah." Maggie tilted her head to hide her face under the bill of Glenn's red baseball cap as she eyed Carol again. "We did."

"You did?"

"Yes," Carol added with a certain tone, "and that boyfriend of yours is something else isn't he?"

The mention of Rick made his lady blush uncontrollably until Carol's humorously pursed lips signaled to Michonne that her friends were making fun of her for some unknown reason.

"What?" Michonne asked suspiciously, her mouth beginning to curl at the pair's weak attempt to act as if nothing was up.

After a few seconds of suspense, Maggie put on a pout and spoke in a baby's voice, "Your daddy said you couldn't come _pway_ _wif_ us." She and Carol burst out laughing.

"Oh, screw you guys!" Michonne sucked her teeth and fussed with embarrassment. "He did not!"

"Seriously." Maggie confirmed, "He came to the door and said he didn't think you were up to it. I asked if you were okay, thought maybe you were sick... and you know that smug bastard..." she playfully labeled him,

"smiled and said..."

Mrs. Rhee imitated Rick's crooked smile and deep drawl as Carol giggled hanging onto her arm,

"... 'Oh, she's better'n okay'..."

Michonne was stuck. She just stood there with her jaw dropped as her friends held onto one another and roared together, laughing.

"Tell her about the apple... The apple!" Carol pulled at Maggie, fracturing hysterically.

The mother-to-be elbowed Carol to get her to stop laughing or else Maggie would never get her next sentence out coherently, but they both were red and teary-eyed from laughing. Maggie finally continued, "What's the deal with you guys and apples? Gettin' your 'Adam and Eve on', huh?" She swirled her hips.

"Oh my god..." Michonne rolled her eyes.

"Apples are the new cigarettes." Carol teasingly whispered into Maggie's ear with a snort, making her laugh harder.

"He came to the door with an apple?" Michonne could only image. She'd seen him rip into their 'after-sex apples' and she knew how obscene the sight could be. When she watched the strong muscles in his face crunch and tear and chew, she was always turned on. The way he licked those soft pink lips and flashed that toothy smile- sometimes the 'after-sex apple' became the 'intermission apple'. Knowing her friends had seen it too and immediately caught on to what had just went down in their bedroom, made her lower her face into her palm and take a deep breath to compose herself.

"Hun, Rick was leaning in that doorway, bare chested, with apple juice all over the hairs on his chinny chin chin... It was more than I needed to see." Maggie shook her head and closed her eyes, fanning herself. "I wish I had pearls to clutch!" She turned to Carol and they both cackled.

"Okay, alright..." Michonne nodded sarcastically, trying to end this- admittedly funny but awkward- comedy routine. She tried to take the high road, "You guys are being so juvenile." She rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling shyly at their jokes.

"Don't think I'll ever look at apples the same way again." Carol said. "I might _finally_ be traumatized."

"I guess nobody takes apple porn seriously until you see a guy fuck a McIntosh with his mouth." Maggie said reflectively with a serious face. They all stopped and looked at each other, then Michonne's friends doubled over with laughter.

"Really, Maggie?" Michonne bent down to pick up another tool and started walking to the shed. "You gonna kiss your baby with that mouth?"

"She sure as hell won't ever feed him any apples..." Carol continued to cut up.

Michonne was sweating from the conversation and just wanted out of there. "You two can continue to entertain each other with your little jokes while you put away the rest of this crap yourselves. I'm out." She stormed off with her cheeks sore from smiling, followed by the relentless chortling of the foul-mouthed brunette and the gray-haired jester.

* * *

Rick adjusted the sights of the scope on his AK-101. He laid comfortably on the platform of the watchtower, thanks to the heavy patchwork quilt spread out underneath him. He surveyed the wooded area outside Alexandria's walls through the lens. He pivoted the weapon on it's bi-pod, sweeping back and forth, watching for any movement around the perimeter. He was losing daylight, which meant his shift was almost over. Off to the west a blazing orange orb seemed to be falling into the dark leaves of the forest far away. The sky was streaked with pastel pink, fuchsia and gold.

Rick stood up to marvel at the scene before he made his way home. He wished Michonne was beside him to witness it. The air was developing a chill, especially so high up. But the warmth on Rick's face from the setting sun made him think about the heat on his cheeks hours earlier from Michonne's thighs flanking his face urgently. The wind in his hair mimicked her fingers and the pink in the sky took him back into the depths of her folds where he had brought up a fountain for him to make wishes without end.

All the beauty he had seen that day- her face as he wrecked her with orgasms and now, the painting in the sky- made him think about God and miracles. He pondered how the brilliance of the sunset belonged to the whole world, but the angel he'd left in his bed belonged only to him. Rick was blessed again when he turn to look back on Alexandria and caught a glimpse of a vision walking toward him. Rick hadn't prayed, only wished that she was there...

 _but look at God._

A long black shadow to her left followed her steps. Her arms were tight around her body and the lines around Rick's eyes creased deeply as he thought of her cursing at the chill in the air. He took a step to come down from the tower, meet her in the middle of the street and throw his arms around the woman he loved so madly. But the view of her coming to him: the sway of her hips and the swing of her locs- both of which, he was certain, would be in his grip later that night as she called his name- riveted him to the wooden platform under his feet. He decided to stand still and enjoy watching her _come to him_. His smile grew wider and wider and he walked to the edge of the lookout post to meet those chestnut colored eyes right below him.

"Richard Grimes!" She called up to him hurling his full name at him with a whipping tongue.

Shocked by her distemper, Rick was snapped out of his musings. "Carl did it." He said immediately, not knowing the reason for her huff. He raised his hands in surrender. "I've been up here since I left home so, whatever it was- it wasn't me."

Rick held the championship in the bedroom but everywhere else, Michonne called the shots in his world and she didn't abide screw-ups. So he was happy to know that he couldn't have been in her cross-hairs legitimately.

"Yes, Grimes. It was you." She looked straight up and folded her arms slowly.

"Come up here." He motioned with a gesture of his head. He walked over to the ladder and pulled her up eagerly toe to toe with him. His arms found their way around her waist immediately, his forehead pressed to hers. She unwillingly softened against his chest. "I've been good." He guaranteed her. "I'm innocent." He caught her lips and punctuated his promise with a quick kiss. Rick took her hand and led her over to the blanket he'd been laying on while he kept watch.

"You're a lot of things, Grimes, innocent isn't one of them." She continued to fuss as she followed him and they both sat, legs dangling off the drop, facing the setting sun.

"Okay. What did I do?" He was curious to know.

"You tell me." Michonne countered. "Tell me what you said to Maggie and Carol..."

Rick sniggered like a mischievous kid. "What?!" he protested weakly. "I told them you were tired! What's wrong with that?"

"Maggie says you were being awfully smug," Michonne rolled her eyes, "and that you put on quite a show with your apple."

"Hey." Rick challenged her, "I think I deserved to enjoy that apple. I worked hard for it. Didn't I?" He bumped his shoulder into hers but she wouldn't agree. "Didn't I?" He repeated, this time a note lower, leaning into her neck.

She broke into a reluctant smile, threw her head back and rolled her eyes. "God! You are so bad." Michonne whined. She turned to him as he smirked, "Look at you. You don't even care!" She hit him in the arm.

"Why should I care?" He shrugged. "If I could, I'd get a billboard..." he waved his hands wide over the landscape in front of them, "with a picture of me eat'n an apple... sit'n on a pile of apples... wear'n a shirt that says Mr. Apples... giv'n a thumbs up to everybody for miles around."

Michonne giggled, "With a caption that reads 'She's better than okay', huh?"

"Hey, sounds good to me..."

"You're a nut. You know that, right?"

Her eyes shined as the apricot sun illuminated her smooth dark skin. She looked as though she'd been brushed with gold. "C'mere." Rick put his arm around her waist and pinched her chin between his fingers bringing her in for a long tongue-heavy kiss. When his lips let go of hers, she couldn't think of anything else to gripe about.

Michonne cuddled up under his arm and looked out at the tree tops bending back and forth on the horizon. Rick felt the coolness on her skin and brought the quilt up around them both, rubbing her goose-bumps away.

"Look at that sunset." Michonne finally acknowledged with a reverent whisper.

"I know." Rick agreed, squeezing her closer. "That's one reason why I called you up here."

Michonne was lost in the swirling sky, but after a brief pause she asked "What's the other reason?"

Rick traced the outline of her face with his finger, studying her beauty, his eyes darting from one remarkable feature to next. He smiled contentedly as Michonne took his bearded face in her hands and gave him a kiss to rival his own hungry attack. She was ready- **now**. She could tell he was too by the sound of his gruff and expectant moan. She felt the walls deep within her tighten at the taste of him.

"Rick," his name floated off her tongue, "take me home." Michonne dragged her hand up the inside of his thigh where his cock was stretching rigidly against his jeans. Once she felt his desire for her, pulling away to go home seemed like the silliest thing in the world. She mounted him artlessly only to be quickly flung on her back and pressed to the floor of the platform by the crush of his body, his manhood lying strenuously on her mound through the fabric of their clothes.

"We'll go home after." Rick steered her further to where he wanted her to be: thrusting with purpose underneath him.

Suddenly Michonne pulled away, "Wait, wait." She stopped him breathlessly. She pulled a sandwich in a plastic baggie from her jacket pocket.

"What's that?" Rick looked down between them.

"I thought you might be hungry. I made you a sandwich." Michonne said suddenly bashful of the gesture.

Rick looked to her adoringly, "What kind?"

"B.L.T. It's turkey bacon but..." She shrugged.

Rick found himself unable to stop smiling. "I thought you came to fuss at me."

"And feed you... gotta keep your strength up." She said suggestively and pecked at his lips.

"You're literally THE best." He said and Michonne's heart beat boisterously at the compliment. "So... c'mon. Feed me."

She laughed, looking around the mash of their bodies, "I can barely move." The heavy quilt tangled around them, Rick's arms clamped around her tightly.

Rick brought a hand up and ran his thumb over her lips and nudged her nose with his. "C'mon. Feed me." He repeated in a more provocative tone.

Michonne lifted the baggie to her mouth with her free hand pulling the edges open with her teeth, never breaking eye contact with the famished man above her. She used her teeth again and gently pulled the sandwich out halfway, then put it to his mouth and watched him take a big bite. There was something so indecent about the way he chewed the lettuce, tomato, meat and bread- pulling them into his mouth, grinding it all between his teeth and gulping it down behind his protruding Adam's apple. Michonne bit her lip as she watched him take another bite. They quietly kept their positions as Rick made quick work of the sandwich.

"Thank you." He pulled her close again after the final bite, his hips cradled between her thighs. He pawed at her outspread backside then began dropping kisses down her neck til he reached her cleavage and started to lap at the banks of her bountiful breasts. She sucked in a sharp breath, turning her face towards the sliver of sun still visible.

"Hey up there!" Abraham's voice shouted at them from the ground, breaking up _round two_ , "Don't get jizz all over that blanket! I'm on duty next and I don't want to be swimming in a sea of Rick's dick milk while I'm on the scope!"

The two love birds laughed until they lost their breath. They smoothed the quilt out neatly and came down just as the stars were coming out in the east. Michonne stayed close under Rick's arm as they made their way home. When they walked inside their house, Carl was lying on the couch with his nose buried in a comic book.

"Hey." The teenager nonchalantly glanced up briefly. They both returned his greeting. "Oh! Dad, Carol and Maggie dropped off a bag of apples for you. They're in there on the kitchen table."

The smitten pair immediately went to investigate the brown paper bag. It was full of apples as Carl had said. Big letters in permanent marker spelled out " **ENJOY**!"

Rick smiled at Michonne, "That's what I'm talk'n 'bout." He nodded approvingly and went for the bag.

Michone just rolled her eyes, "Fucking apples." She mumbled, shaking her head as she walked away.

Rick agreed excitedly as if she'd given the apples a new name, "Yeah, they are." He chuckled happily as he followed her upstairs with the bag of 'fucking apples' in his arms.


	5. Loud and Clear

**Hey, Cool Kids. ;)**

 **In this chapter Michonne and Rick finally make it to the promise land and it flows with Rick's Milk and Michonne's Honey. lol (Oh, Behave!)**

 **I tried to add a little romance and respectability to elevate the smut (but its really just smut *shrugs*). The beautifully talented, _Nina Simone_ is one of my favs. The songs I chose really speak to Richonne's relationship, in my opinion. Especially it's newness after such a long build up and in the relative peace they have before the Saviors show up. Check them out.**

 _ **"Tell Me More and More and then Some"**_

 _ **"Keeper of the Flame"**_

 _ **"To Love Somebody"**_

 _ **"Feeling Good"**_

 **-comewithnattah**

* * *

9:48 p.m. Day 1

Michonne walked into their room first, "I'm gonna take a bath." She informed Rick without looking back. Maggie and Carol's joke would've been funnier if Abraham hadn't interrupted her and Rick and he could have earned his apple. Sex with Rick high above the world would have been a mind-blowing, bucket list experience. She would remind him that he owed her a sunset fuck in the clouds and she was definitely going to collect.

Rick followed behind her, catching her by the arm, "Wait, wait, wait." He spoke in a rapid whisper to stop her, turning her to face him. He put his bag of fruit on the dresser so he could wrap her tight in both arms. "I'm not done with you," he said backing her up, step by step.

"Rick." Michonne giggled, playing dumb, "What are you doing?"

His blue eyes lit up like sparks from a socket. He answered her by storming the crook of her neck with lips, tongue and teeth.

"Rick!" She tried to push him off her with all the force of a hummingbird's wings. Her fraudulent attempt to stop him only making his desire for her more critical.

His hips flush against her, he bulldozed into her, nearly making her lose her balance. He had her hips firm in his grip though- a good thing too, as her knees went weak.

"Rick!" She whined as her core reverberated with a need almost equal to his own.

He was so hard, he bit his bottom lip at the stubbornness of his misbehaving cock but Rick could think of no reason to reel it in.

"Mmmm, Rick..." Michonne hummed as she gave in. Her thoughts melding with his, all of them turning to making love. She felt a tremor move through her, hotter than gossip at church. That heat pooled in the pit of her stomach and a warm wetness puddled into her panties.

He pressed her body with his against the tallboy dresser and his hands slowly took a tour of her body- from her exquisite neck and proud shoulders to her ripe breasts, where he set up camp, hiking the soft terrain with his rough hands.

He'd heard the saying 'the blacker the berry, the sweeter juice'. He always knew what people _meant_ when they said it but now he had actually experienced the taste. He scoffed at what an understatement that was as he pushed her t-shirt up over her breasts, popped them out of her bra and zeroed in on her tight nipples, teasing them on his tongue with a sipping motion.

"Rick..." She called him as her breath snagged, this time wanting his attention. She licked her plump dark lips through her ragged breathing.

He brought his head up, invading her lips harshly but greeting her tongue in peace. "Yeah?" He spoke without breaking their kiss, never getting enough of her. He splayed his hands across her well-rounded behind, massaging her like he was being paid. He was. He was being paid in the only currency he cared to count: her moans, shivers and the sharp urgency in her voice whenever she called,

"Rick... baby..." She pulled back to speak, giggling at his voracity. "Baby, I really need to clean up." She told him, ignoring the fact that her bottom lip kept getting caught between his hungry teeth. "You gotta let me get..." she sighed, trying to get a word in over their smacking lips. "I want you to..."

"What?" He grinned playfully, finally taking a breath.

Michonne paused to work up the nerve to ask him. She'd never asked before, but she couldn't look at his mouth without thinking about it. For the second time in these few days, he'd brought to her into a new world without much warning. What he'd done earlier with that mouth, _God_... She wanted that feeling again. She'd do anything... even swallow her pride and ask for it, something she had never even been tempted to do with anyone else, she realized. Hopefully, he wouldn't make her beg, but she was ready if need be.

She huffed a breath to force out her words, "...kiss me _here_ again." She reached between them. He watched, his mouth slightly parted, as she slid her hand down her abdomen to cup herself between her huddled thighs. Her knees faltered, "Please." She begged, even though there was no indication that she needed to.

If her eyes would have been open she would have seen Rick's entranced look as he basked in her request. If she didn't want him being smug, she certainly was not helping his modesty. He licked his lips as his mouth watered and his stomach dropped.

Rick was overwhelmed by her beauty, her loyalty, her trust in him. Sex had always been only a physical need for him. He would tell Lori he loved her during sex- and he did love her- but the sex was about them both getting off, rolling over and falling asleep. Sex with Michonne was more about the delivering _actual love_ to her. He was handing over his love in the form deep strokes, dominating caresses and deafening orgasms. He physically put tangible love inside her and she took it to be just that. Their bodies communicated things their voices were still holding on to, but over Michonne's 'fuck'-s and Rick's 'fuckin' shit'-s, they heard each other loud and clear. Now she was asking him to serenade her with his tongue again so she could hear 'I Love You' echo between her thighs. He snapped out of his astonishment. "Damn, Michonne."

"What?" She opened her eyes with curiosity. He sounded upset.

"You're just... perfect and I don't deserve you." He said, straightening up from his crush on her body. Sometimes God's miracles were oddly placed. But he wasn't complaining just acknowledging that a major providential mishap or design had put her there under his touch. Rick was extremely grateful.

Michonne looked at him, running her fingers over the gray on his face. "What's there to deserve about me?"

She grinned and felt her heart clinch at his declaration when she was convinced that she was just a girl who made it past the end of the world and found the guy- the _one_ guy- that she always wanted. She had been on a _years long_ _run_ hoping to find that secret stash of everything she needed, when she stumbled into life with him. She was simply lucky at the moment and she knew sometimes luck runs out. But that didn't scare her like it used to with Mike. She felt cocooned from all dangers when she was in Rick's arms and come what may, she was done taking breaks.

Rick chuckled, her question was so absurd, "I can't put it into words." He shook his head, lpoking her up and down .

She pressed a sweet, flippant kiss to his lips as she turned to run her bath. "Well you think about it... I'm going to get in this tub and soak a little. You check on Judith." She changed the subject without much thought. "My muscles are little sore from messing around with you and I need..."

Michonne wasn't _hearing_ him. He had to speak in a different _language_ for her to understand. Rick called her back. "Hey, 'Chonne. I'll get your bath ready. You check on the Judith. Then, would you go down to the basement, bring up a bottle of wine?"

"Ooooh, yes!" Michonne agreed. "Good call." She pointed at him. "A glass of wine is just what I need." She scoffed a little, "One thing we definitely have a lot of is wine. Not so much food. But..."

"You and me- we'll go to the Hilltop, talk to Gregory about that tomorrow... get us some more meat and potatoes... keep you nice and thick." He slapped her behind, his gaze taking in the bounce as he sent his woman off, giggling.

Michonne came back to the room with the open bottle of red in her fist and, in her other hand, two wine glasses, crisscrossed between her fingers. She was met at the door by a soft orange glow coming from the master bathroom. She smiled and gave a short giggle when she saw that Rick had arranged a number of candles all over the bathroom, large scented candles to tea lights- whatever he could find. The room was fragrant but so humid with tiny little flames and the piping hot bath water (just like she liked it). Rick had to open the window for a breeze, making the sheer white curtains breathe in and out over the window sill.

Michonne stood in the doorway near the sink, taking in the scene as foam piled up around the water falling in the tub. Rick had just gotten out of the shower himself. His chest beading with droplets, his curls slick and tight as he sat on the edge of the tub, naked- save for the towel around his waist. His arm was hanging in the water to test the temperature when he looked up and saw her standing there.

"Judith was okay?"

"Sleeping like a baby." She giggled at her own joke.

"Carl?"

"Knocked out on the couch."

"You locked the door?" He asked her, covering all his bases before he started the next round. She nodded. "Good. Press play." He instructed her, his brow jumping in the direction of the CD player on the sink beside her. Her lips slowly curled, detecting a surprise.

Even before they were an official couple, Rick loved to come home bearing gifts for Michonne. Maybe he'd find a little vague reminder of some inside joke they shared. He'd present it to her and see if she could guess the reference. They'd laugh, reliving whatever circumstance had made the memory for them. Sometimes he brought _her_ back stuff that was really for _him_ , like those white lace panties that, so far, he never let her wear more than five minutes. This time he found something for them both. He knew Michonne loved her music. And one day, many, months ago, after a fireside conversation on the road, they happily found out they could agree on one artist in particular.

She sat the bottle and glasses down on the sink counter. With the push of a button, she sent the CD spinning. The brash melodic chord of a piano began followed by a harmonica's bluesy wail and the droning of a lazy high-hat.

 _I want more and more and then some_  
 _Daddy you know what I wanna hear_

A distinctly deep, nasally voice came belting out the speakers. Michonne's mouth dropped open in shock. "Stop playin'." She said with an excited grin. "Nina Simone?"

Rick inclined his head with a tilt and confirmed with pride, "Nina Simone."

She stopped to listen, her eyes focused on the little two speaker player as she remembered the words to this lesser known song.

 _I want more and more and then some_

 _of how you feel and then_

 _When you dun told me 'bout a million times how much you love me_

 _and you through_

 _start right back in again_

"Where did you find her?" Michonne was amazed.

"We went to a lot of stores yesterday looking for what Eugene needed to fix the grid. I lucked up." Rick explained as her happiness shined in her wide eyes.

Michonne took in all of the ambience. "There's a lot of romance going on in here." She said with her gorgeous smile, still looking around, "I don't think I'm ready for all this."

Rick stood up and walked over to her, his bow-legged amble magnified by his hairy bare legs. "That's because you're overdressed."

She laughed at his insinuation and asked shyly, "Could you help me with that?"

Smirking with the ocean in his eyes, he obliged, pulling her shirt over her head. Her locs fell back loosely to her smooth toned shoulders and back. He twirled her around to the melody of the music. Catching her in his arms and pressing her back to him, they swayed back and forth together.

 _The waiting's been so long, so long  
It's hard to be believing  
I thought I'd missed my guess  
I thought happiness for me was lost_

Her bra fell away and Rick unzipped her pants, pushing them down over those baby-making hips along with her panties until they bunched up around her ankles. She waited for his touch again but when it didn't come, she stepped out of her clothes and turned to find him sitting back on the tub attending her naked figure like a connoisseur of art.

"What?" She was puzzled by his intense gaze.

"I told you, you're perfect. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I can't believe... this..." He extended his arms, tracing his hands through the air over the outline of her body, "... is all mine."

Michonne looked down at herself. "Well, believe it." She promised, "You wrote your name all over me."

 _I want more and more and then some_  
 _You know how I love that stuff_

She still stood in the threshold of the door wanting him to attack her like he does. He still sat across the room on the bathtub, wanting to see her slink over to him like he loves.

"Your water's gonna get cold." He reminded her, prodding her to him.

 _Whisper from now on till Doomsday  
But I never  
No I never  
No I never will get enough_

She sighed and began to switch her hips, walking to him as 'Keeper of the Flame' began to play. The whirling measure of a flute introduced the regal voice of the black musical genius into the scene once again.

 _I'm the keeper of the flame_  
 _My torch of love lights his name_

 _Ask no pity, beg no shame_

 _I'm the keeper of the flame_

He held her hand as she she put one foot down into the white bubbles and met with the piping hot water underneath. "Ooooh! That feels good." She closed her eyes and threw her head back as she slid down deeper. She pulled all her hair to the top of her head and moaned as the water's high temperature stung her skin.

"You're making me jealous." Rick grinned watching her enjoy the relaxing heat.

She teased him with a wicked eye, "This bath is hitting all the right spots."

"What about this spot?" He reached his hand into the water running it along her leg, bringing it up to the joining of her thighs. She bent her knees up out of the water, letting her legs fall open. She could read his face like a map. She knew right where he was headed and she was waving him in.

He slid his index finger into her gooey center, looking at her with heavy lids. He moved his hand back and forth between her folds lightly. She smiled dreamily. He pulled away and came back with two fingers, curving upward, he moved them deftly til he got the reaction he was looking for.

Michonne suddenly splashed the water, grabbing his wrist with both hands, her mouth fell open to draw in an excited breath. Rick smiled, pleased with himself, repeating his question, "What about this spot, baby?" He continued to operate his digits with skill.

"Yes!" she said to the feeling. "No..." She remembered the question, "...that spot belongs... to you." She muttered out as she trembled.

"Good." He growled, bringing his tongue onto his lips slowly. "Tell me again." He moved to her back and knelt on the floor, hovering above her head and went deeper, applying more pressure. His wrist pressed against her clit, she sank down into the water grinding on his hand making his touch more intense. "Tell me again." He put his soft lips to her ear, purposely grazing her lobe with his tongue then clamping down with his teeth.

"It... mmmm... it's... yours... belongs to you." She tried to remember what he was asking her to say. Did this spot deep inside her belong to him? _Oh. Fuck, yes!_ _That spot and every other._ She wished she had more for him to claim. "Only you."

"So you know what I want, now. Don't you?" The skin on her neck tingled. Her eyes closed tight at the mounting ripples moving from outside to inside of her, from her clit to her g-spot and inside to outside of her, her g-spot to her clit. The word 'want' fell off his tongue and she let his wrist go and clutched the sides of the tub anchoring herself before the crash of that hurricane brewing on his fingers swept her away. "I want it." He told her sternly. "Give it up."

 _Gladly._ She did as ordered and he felt her canal collapse on his fingers. Michonne gave him a bonus, crying out his name over the words of the song. Her head was swimming. She rested back against the smooth white surface of the tub, finally bringing her hands up to wipe away the sheen of sweat on her face.

 _When the fire is burning out_  
 _And the angels call my name_  
 _Dying love will leave no doubt_  
 _I'm the keeper of the flame_

"I was think'n 'bout bath'n you." He said with quiet authority, as he grabbed the bottle of wine and poured her a glass. He handed it over, looking down at her wallowing in all the sensations she was felling, "But n'stead, I'm gonna keep my hands to myself... let you relax." He leaned over to kiss her forehead as she took a lazy sip. "So I can work you up all over again... so hurry up." He said using the compelling bass in his voice that made her want to crawl after him as he left for the bedroom.

At those words, Michonne didn't dawdle. She turned her eyes to the line up of body washes and bubble baths to her left. Thanks to Rick's scavenging, her collection stood at 32. _Lavender Peppermint (her favorite), Mango Coconut, Mandarin Lemon, Rose Petal, Honeysuckle (the country boy's favorite), Warm Brown Sugar..._ She went with Rick's favorite, a smile of anticipation commandeering her face.

She'd finished her wine and now had a serene buzz as she emerged from the water with heat-swollen skin. She wrapped a towel around her, under her arms, blew up out the candles and tip toed into Rick's presence.

One hand tucked under his head, he was on his side of the bed, waiting for her patiently. He seemed to quietly contemplate the ceiling, but his mind was full of her and his other hand was full of his splendid cock as he soothed that savage beast beneath his towel.

He sat up, throwing his feet on the floor. He summoned her with an outstretched hand and she took it... and a deep breath. "Get over here, woman. I wont bite." he said in a sarcastic tone. Michonne pursed her lips and cocked a brow, smiling doubtfully, causing Rick to amended his promise. With a chuckle, he shook his head like a man with no choice, "No, I am... I am. I'm gonna bite."

She sucked her teeth with imaginary annoyance as she stood before him, dropping her head back with a wider smile. "God. You're terrible."

"And you're fuck'n beautiful." he said looking into her face. Should he worship her or lay waste? He leaned forward and slipped his hands under her towel. He dragged his eyes downward as his hands ascended her curves and the ends of her thick cotton covering slowly exposed her sex, making him groan as he rubbed his nose in the neatly trimmed curls before him.

He pushed into her further and moved his head in a nodding motion, then in circles, nuzzling that powerful nub with his nose, breathing deep. Michonne stood there smiling at his antics, with her hands on his shoulders. He could smell the Honeysuckle and he knew it was for him. Just the mental picture of this woman thinking of him as she covered her body in creamy suds, made him leak under his towel.

Miss Simone changed it up once more, singing live and tickling the ivories, describing with her signature quiver how it feels 'To Love Somebody'.

 _There's a light_  
 _A certain kind of light_

That's never shone on me  
 _I want my whole life to be_  
 _Lived with you_  
 _Lived with you_

He eventually released the tip of his tongue, flicking that little magic button. When her hands pulled at his hair, he smirked at her tell, but quickly set his mind back to business.

She was already trembling, every breath sounding like it could be her last when he pressed his tongue broadly to the entire surface inside her fleshy lower lips and licked up to her throbbing bud in one painfully slow motion. He was merciless and she felt a strange but sweet pang being pulled out of her as he lifted the hood of her clit with his teeth and started to suck at her insistently. She wasn't even standing under her own strength by the time she ruptured and his chin dripped with all her buttery goodness.

"Fuck, Rick!" She called out, louder than she meant to, her features crumpling in ecstasy.

Michonne was on her toes, her nerve endings too sensitive to put her feet flat on the floor. Fittingly she was in lift off position, because Rick was about to send her past the moon and stars. He grabbed her wrists tight, took her hands out of his hair and laid back on the bed, pulling her on top of him. Bending to his will, she mounted him, settling over those menacing inches that were ready to leave her walls strained around his girth.

But Rick kept pulling her further up his lean chiseled abs, up over his broad beautiful chest. She kept hesitating to follow where he was leading, nervous of this position. "C'mon Chonne. Bring it here." He told her impatiently as she looked skeptically into those dangerous eyes, flashing like his old cruiser's spinning blues. Rick wanted her to know she couldn't outrun _the_ _law_. "Wont be nothin' left of you when I'm done."

"God!" She whimpered. Michonne tried to get her mind right as Rick slid his arms under her thighs and curled up around them, reaching down into the sweetest spot known to man. His tongue penetrated her slit and he drove into her over and over as his savage hands wandered all over her chocolate skin. Rick kept pulling her hips, rolling her onto his tongue until she felt comfortable enough to move by herself.

 _I'm a woman_  
 _Can't you see what I am_  
 _I live and I breathe for you_  
 _What good does it do_  
 _If I ain't got you, if I ain't got you_

Soon enough she was sliding down on his tongue as the force of her breathing dried her throat and the man below her used his mouth to venerate her most sacred and secluded spots in a way that was pure sacrilege. She could feel it coming, her eyes rolling back like a woman possessed. She fell over from the explosion ripping through her. Michonne saw literal fire works behind the lids of her eyes and covered her face with her hands but Rick pulled them away wanting to see the full effect he'd had on her.

 _Oh you don't know_  
 _What it's like_  
 _Baby you don't know_  
 _To love somebody_  
 _To love somebody_  
 _The way I love you_

Wiping his mouth, he laid himself next to her, diagonally across the bed. Michonne was vibrating with a steady peaceful hum. He loved when she floated like this. He kept holding her through the end of the song. As soon as that one was over another song took control of the room. Acoustic lyrics from one of Nina's most popular songs diffused through the dewy air.

 _Birds flying high, you know how I feel_

"Hey," He called to her, trying to break through her near catatonic state. "Cum one more time for me Chonne. Damn!" The realization washed over him, "Can't get enough of you."

 _Sun in the sky, you know how I feel_

Michonne shook her head. "I can't... I'll die." She said with her hand to her chest feeling her heart as it tried to escape her body. "I might die anyway."

 _Breeze drifting on by, you know how I feel_

"You might." He gleamed into her cheek.

 _It's a new dawn, It's a new day, It's new life for me_

Michonne gave a weak giggle. "You talk the most shit, Grimes."

 _Yeah, It's new dawn, It's a new day, It's a new life for me_

They chuckled together as he slyly rolled his body onto hers, keeping her distracted with conversation. "Hey, I'm just repeat'n what you said." He took her hand from her chest and held it tenderly, planting kisses soft and slow on her lips as she tried not to smile and failed. "You'll die happy..." Rick whispered a promise at her finger tips. "We'll die together."

 _Oooooooooooo..._

He gave her his rock-hard length- the last thing she needed, but the only thing she wanted in that moment. Rick piped up, "Fuckin' shit..." he sank into her and his entire body celebrated. He managed to break her down further- from pieces, to fragments, to dust, to atoms. He scooped all of her up in his large hands and tucked her away neatly in blinding passion as he progressed further inside her and accelerated his charge. The mattress springs squeaked and the headboard shook as Michonne's heels dug in underneath her and her fingernails scraped his scalp. Her moans were low but the magnitude of his motions played out over her face. Rick was so engrossed in her, his own release caught him unaware just as she blissfully tensed around his waist. They grunted in unison as they knocked wind out of each other.

Somehow, they both survived the megaton climax they experienced together.

Though, Michonne was a little worse for wear.

 _And I'm feeling good_


	6. Pants-Wearing

here, take this fluff, please...

-comewithnattah

* * *

4:31 p.m. Day 2

Their car had gotten them to the Hilltop but gave out before they reached home. It was the timing belt just like Michonne had said. Though they walked along hand in hand, she was going at a much slower pace over the crunch of decaying leaves and roots of the woodlands skirting Alexandria. In the few waking hours they'd shared today, a short-lived game of 'catch-the-towel', had gone from silly horseplay to serious work. Rick had ended up catching handfuls of those molasses curves and Michonne was left clutching the carpet. After an unsuccessful meeting with Gregory, the pair had still won, when listening to the resounding voice of Aaliyah leveled them both with similarly deafening orgasms as Michonne draped her dripping sex over Rick's persistently demanding length ... and the sun hadn't even begun to set on them yet.

"You alright?" Rick looked back to Michonne, inquiring with that smug-ass smirk of his.

She raised her brow with untroubled poise to answer his question, "I'm fine."

"You sure?" He turned forward, eyes set to the towering trees ahead, but she could see his eyes still creasing from his mischievous expression. "You're kinda laggin' behind."

"I am not lagging. I'm just..." she enunciated, " **taking my time** _._ "

With a playfully patronizing tone, Rick teased her, "Y'know, if I woulda known the car wouldn't make it back and we'd have to walk, I woulda gone easier on you... been a little bit more gentle with you in the car."

Michonne paused in her tracks and rolled her eyes with a sigh, "You know what?"

"What's that?" Rick perked his ears for her rebuttal...

"Nothing... just..." She shook her head at her loss for words and waved him forward, fighting the smile creeping to her lips.

Though she was never one to suffer a cocky man, she liked to see this side of Rick. Truth be told, she was starting to realize she loved to watch him grandstand after sex. Being teased for melting under his touch relieved her, somehow. It proved to her that she was still capable of being soft. The woman she was proud to be was still in there, under all the muck that life had thrown on her. Rick Grimes had found her, loved on her and made her shine from the inside out. Hearing him comment on his advantage over her only made her want to curl even tighter around his little finger.

"We can take a break right up here." He gestured to the trunk of a fallen tree a few yards away. "You can sit down... if your knees are still kinda weak." He laughed, barely getting out that last part.

"You really talk the most shit! I've never seen anything like it." Her laugh blended with his, loudly into the air.

The heat of the day was starting to cool. The sun filtering through the leaves projected light here and there and the silence around them made them feel like they were the only two people on the planet. Rick was happy to remind himself that they weren't- that, with the help of the blushing beauty beside him, his family was safe at home. He had managed to get things right, finally. He was happier than he'd ever been.

"Rick!" Michonne shrieked as the curly headed country boy ambushed her, grabbing her at the knees and hoisting her over his shoulder. "What are you doing?!"

"One good ride deserves another." He declared with one arm wrapped around her thighs as he smacked her bottom rhythmically and continued their ascent up the modest incline, heading west.

She raised her head over his, perching herself up on his shoulder and looking down into his electric blue eyes. "Do you have to carry me like a caveman with a hunk of meat?" She asked with a breathless giggle.

"Do you have to be so meaty?" He clutched both her chunky cheeks with his hungry hands, sinking his teeth into her backside pretending to gobble her up, before swinging her down into the cradle of his arms where she reclined with a satisfied smile. She crossed her hanging legs over the bend of his elbow, threw her arms around his neck and interlocked her fingers to ensure she stayed suspended there, resting against his body. "Much better." She basked in the sweetness of the scene and teased, "I'll have you trained in no time."

"Maybe. But not before I break you in. One day... maybe..." He tilted his head with an aura of doubt, " **maybe** you'll even be able to walk after we..." He trailed off, challenging her.

Michonne sucked her teeth as heat rose in her face. His words stirred her core as flashes of their earlier antics caused her inner walls to twitch with desire. "Put me down." She jerked out of his arms. "Enough, Smartass!" She kissed his lips as she pouted and he grinned. "Last one to that log wears the pants in this relationship!" She shouted the rules to her made-up contest, taking off before he even caught on to what she was saying.

"Cheater!" He broke into a run and tried to grab her but she was in the wind, her katana bouncing on her back, her locs swaying side to side. She lost momentum as she reached the log first, giving Rick the opportunity to catch her around the waist. "Cheaters never win." He rasped into her neck.

"I didn't cheat. You're just not as fast as I am, too much salt and pepper on that nugget." She laughed, mussing his hair.

Rick dropped his jaw and chuckled out, "Oh! Call'n me old, too? You're work'n your way to a serious spank'n."

"You can't spank me, Grimes. **I wear the pants**." She pushed her finger into his chest punctuating each word and sat on the fallen tree to catch her breath, looking up at him defiantly.

"We'll see about that. Won't w..." Rick stopped dead and reached for his hatchet. Michonne moved quickly to her feet, freeing her sword in a blink and standing strategically back to back with him. Both their faces contorted as they recognized the all too familiar smell of putrid flesh being carried on the wind.

"See anything?" Rick whispered, narrowing his eyes to survey their surroundings for the walkers he knew were close.

"Nothing... no, wait... on your nine." she briefed him when she caught sight of the first few approaching walkers, followed by, what looked to be, thirty or so converging stragglers. Their mindless groaning intensified when they became cognizant of the former sheriff and his samurai.

Instinctively, Rick flicked his wrist, ready to charge, weapon in hand. But he overrode that initial impulse and sought Michonne's counsel quickly. "How you wanna play this? Split up?" He asked, raising his voice over the oncoming frenzy just feet away.

"No. Let's take them head on. They're only skin and bones." she observed. The intruding ragged assortment of gaunt faces and staggering gaits made her confident this would be light work despite their numbers. Her sword gripped tightly in both hands, the blade horizontal over her head, Michonne advanced with speed and that intensely drawn, fearless expression that always set the man next to her on fire.

Rick joined her, bringing the edge of his hatchet flying into the temples, crowns and brows of the walking corpses reaching out to grab him. He marched over their slumped remains, glancing over to his woman every couple kills. She was leaving a trail of motionless shells in her wake.

He wished he could just sit and watch her dance with that steel- her slender muscular arms rising and falling with force and skill, her hair whirling around her face as she did a 360 spin, effectively slicing three walkers at once. Every time she raised her arms, the hem of her shirt gave him a little peek at her flat stomach and the dipping of her form from her spine to her toned behind. He smiled whenever he heard her aggressively grunt with a parry and a planting strike. His woman was a damn conqueror and she roared like a jungle cat over the loud crunch of skulls he was mowing through.

They moved further and further off their path, dropping body after body with ease 'til only three walkers remained. Michonne took a swipe at one, then another with her cutting edge, splitting through their foreheads and spinning their scalps into the air. She went for the neck of the last gruesome rotter, when the head of Rick's hatchet flew through the distance between them, sticking squarely in it's face, dead-center. The thing fell back with a thud, in front of her. She turned to look back at her swaggering soldier. Lowering her katana slowly, she threw Rick much attitude with a hand on her hip, pursing her luscious lips and ruing her stolen kill. "Showoff!"

"Not showing off, baby. Just **wearing the pants**." He slapped her butt as he walked by to retrieve the cleaver from it's mark.

Michonne took a few steps back to admire his adorable ass when she gasped, falling backwards on her own. Her ankle was being tugged at by the skeletal hand of a moaning walker, immobilized with a half-eaten body. Laying there for who knows how long, he was hidden under a layer of leaves.

"Chonne!" Rick shouted in a split-second of panic as he darted in her direction. She was making quick work of the ghoulish face with her free foot, kicking and driving her heel into it's skull until it's brains were falling out of it's face.

Michonne took a deep breath, looking up at Rick as he rushed to her aid. But her heart seized within her again as she saw movement behind him coming from the trees. "Behind you!" she called out. He obeyed her warning and turned, ready to spring into action again- when suddenly his posture relaxed. Puzzled by his reaction, Michonne looked around him for a better view of who or what approached.

'What the hell are you two doing out here?" Rosita crushed her face with irritation.

She was accompanied by Sasha, who was complaining, "What the hell, man? Y'all killed all our walkers?"

"Our car broke down." Rick answered then questioned, "Your walkers?"

"Maggie spotted them from the tower and we came out here to get rid of them." Rosita explained as she put her knife back in the holster on the small of her back. Looking around at the carnage that could have been hers, she scoffed a sarcastic, "Thanks a lot."

"Well, fuck, you're welcome." Rick said with a cranky inflection as he caught his breath, wiped the sweat away from his eyes and turned his attention back to Michonne.

Sasha eyed the fallen warrior, "Hey, Michonne, you okay?

"Yeah I just fell on my butt." Michonne assured her. Rick walked back toward her extending his hand to help her up. But she winced in pain as he tried to lift her.

"Oh, honey." Her brave lover assessed her situation sympathetically. Michonne could see his eyes were focused behind her. A similar look was etched on the faces of Rosita and Sasha as they approached. Michonne turned her head and saw, to her disbelief, that of all the places she could have landed, she had fallen into a briar bush. Her backside was lousy with little horn-like thorns. The adrenaline coursing through her veins from making pudding of the walker at her feet and the tension she felt not knowing who was at her beloved's back had temporarily blocked her pain receptors. Not until three sets of wide eyes alerted her that something was wrong, did she feel the first wallop of pain.

"That sucks." Rosita commented dryly. "Shit's gotta hurt."

Rick did end up carrying her, very carefully, over his shoulder home. Michonne kept still, which lessened her pain, somewhat. As she floated home, her only options for scenery were the heels of Rick's boots in a steady beat or Rosita bringing up the rear with annoyed, yet watchful eyes. Which meant Sasha was ahead of Rick with her gun drawn in case they meet any other unfriendlies. Thankfully they weren't that far from Alexandria's gate.

They ended up in the infirmary, Michonne flat on her stomach resting her chin on top of her folded hands while her smirking hero sat in a chair right in front of her. Denise pushed her sliding spectacles up the bridge of her nose as she meticulously removed the pesky nettles from Michonne's backside, causing her to flinch from the pain. The human pin-cushion was happy to hear that the majority of thorns had only scratched her up, relatively few had actually punctured her skin. The ones that actually left holes in her, though, hurt like a son of a bitch.

Denise lost her patience as she fought with a particularly stubborn barb and blurted out "How'd this happen, anyway!" The skeptical look on her face overtly betrayed her belief that a randy 'roll in the hay' had probably rolled Michonne and Rick too far into some prickle bush in the woods.

Rick resented the question and it's tone. His answer came with bite, "We were kill'n shit, what else?"

Denise became suddenly sheepish when her eyes met his and she remembered who she was addressing. She cleared her throat and nodded, slowly at first and then a little more vigorously when Rick quirked his brow for emphasis. "No, I know... I'm sure. Of course... I just... meant..." She groped for words.

Michonne hid her face into the back of her hands, her lips beginning to quiver with laughter at the sound of Denise's stammering back-tracking. She scolded her man for his rough tone with a narrowing of her eyes and a nearly imperceptible half-shake of her head. He was reluctant to simmer down, though, and mouthed an innocent "What?" to her.

So shaken by Rick's reply, the medic poured iodine all over her patient's wounds without a warning. The stinging burn penetrating every puncture and laceration, Michonne quickly lost her smile and yelped through her teeth, "Dammit, Denise!"

The nervous doctor reacted quickly, crumpling her face with awkward acknowledgment of her mistake. "Oops! Sorry, Michonne. I should have warned you... this stuff burns."

Michonne raised her head, looking back at their resident healer, ready to unleash a few choice words. Her lips parted, but she heard Rick clear his throat with two deliberately cheeky grunts. She turned to see him shaking his head with a down-turned mouth, reprimanding her. She rolled her eyes and settled down.

For some reason, Denise thought this would be as good a time as any to explain some things to Rick and Michonne. "Um," She started tentatively. Her eyes were glued to the simple task she was performing, as though it were open heart surgery, to avoid meeting Rick's intense glare again. "I'm actually glad I have you both here. I've been meaning to talk to you." She paused as she cleaned up the rest of Michonne's injuries. "So... I want you guys to be responsible."

"Okay." Being the leader he was, Rick took control first and then ventured for more information. "Responsible, for what... in particular?"

As the one who saved Carl's life after he took a bullet to the eye and the one who everyone always came to every time anyone needed to be repaired in some way, she felt like it was her job to have this conversation with them. The doctor she always wanted to be and the psychiatrist she would've been had much to say on anatomy and relationships, respectively. She saw that Rick was not catching her meaning and that made her confidence plummet, seeing how green she must sound. "Oh... well... No, I mean, be careful..." She finished her work with Michonne, covered her bare, bandaged lower half completely and came to take a seat in front of them both. "Well I guess I should just ask: Are you using any birth control, condoms?" She blurted out.

Rick was dumbfounded, but he managed a "No." from his twisted face. Michonne simply jerked her head back and widened her eyes.

Denise nodded. His willingness to give an answer gave her the courage to plunge directly into a legitimate line of questioning, "Is that because you don't have any? I can give you some. If you..."

"No. Not exactly." Michonne now spoke up and sat up, very carefully, as she wrapped the thin sheet around her waist. She couldn't tell if she was cringing at the pain of her sore behind or the painfully awkward conversation she was baffled to be in. She felt like she was in an 80's sitcom trying to tackle teen pregnancy using a puppets.

"Well," Denise continued, "What you guys are doing, humping like rabbits all over Virginia... that's how you make babies. I would expect two adults to know this." She spoke with sudden authority.

Rick was stunned silent. He didn't know whether to laugh or scowl. Michonne had obviously chosen to laugh. But at least she was playing along through her giggles "Yes. Denise, We know how babies are made."

"So you're trying to get pregnant?" Denise nodded with mistaken understanding. "Well, we can talk about that too. When was your last period?" She pulled out a pen and paper, "We can work out an ovulation schedule. I can offer you advice on diet and positions for intercourse to aid..."

The mention of 'positions for intercourse' had broken the man. Rick could bear no more. "Stop. Denise! Please." He begged with an outstretched hand and more desperation in his voice than he'd ever had cause to use this far into the end of the world. Michone had brought her hands up to her mouth, by now, gasping at the horror of this infirmary visit. "We're not exactly try'n to get pregnant either."

Denise looked up at him, then Michonne, over her glasses. She seemed displeased and she began to analyze the couple's relationship for unhealthy behavioral traits. "Well, have you two discussed it at all?"

Michonne looked to Rick, who still eyed Denise with confusion. He seemed to be equally engrossed in analyzing **her** for unhealthy behavioral traits: this conversation was definitely at the top of the list. But, slowly, he turned to meet Michonne's eyes and she grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Uhhhh," Michonne wasn't sure what to say. No, they hadn't specifically addressed growing their family. But she'd figured that they were discussing it, in a way, every time Rick let go inside of her (which had been an awful lot of "discussion" since they decided to "converse").

Denise interrupted the heart-eyes they were making at each other. "Okay, you guys." her voice became somber, "A lot of people are looking to you to make this place work. What happens to all of that if this relationship implodes, as they're known to do? Babies don't make knew relationships easier. What happens when you have a teenager, a toddler and brand new baby hanging in the balance? Not to mention all the rest of us!" She gestured with wide arms figuratively encompassing their entire community. She and her brother had been through the divorce of their parents. It sucked- for everybody. That's what she saw when she thought about the two people in front of her calling it quits: an entire community scarred by their adoptive parents' divorce.

"We're not gonna implode." Rick drawled out his personal assurance like he was trying to convince a little kid that there were no monsters under the bed.

"Well, you can't be reckless!" Denise was coming down hard on them both, she realized. She didn't mean to be so "Denise". This was exactly why she never wanted this job in the first place.

"It's not reckless." Michonne defended with a heavy sigh. They weren't being reckless, of that she was certain. She saw it as... being organic, letting things happen naturally. That's how she found herself clutching those mints and that curly mane. After months and months of no specific conversation, one night had made them husband and wife for all intents and purposes. That was their dynamic. Maybe it was scary for others on the outside looking in, especially for the Alexandrians who were still getting used to how their whole group operated. But Michonne was not afraid, for the first time since the world went haywire. She was not afraid of anything. The world could implode but she and the man holding hand never would. 'Look, Denise, we **are** being responsible. I promise you. Don't worry."

Rick concurred, "We're together. It's gonna stay that way... because it's never her way or my way, it's always **our** way. That's how we get thangs done." He shrugged as though it was the most obvious truth on the world.

After putting Judith to bed and sharing a nice soothing shower together, Michonne threw on some Nina Simone, determined to relax. Rick hired himself to apply the ointment Denise had given Michonne to prevent any lasting blemishes. He gently massaged the unscented cream into her dark honeysuckled skin, neither of them wearing a stitch. Michonne laid on her stomach, her head at the foot of their bed and hummed contentedly as his strong hands worked for what seemed like a suspiciously long time for a dime-sized amount of balm.

"Aren't you done yet?" She looked back at him with judging, hooded eyes.

"Not yet." He lied. "This is a thick cream."

She smirked at the obvious improbability of his fib, but turned back around. She rested her cheek on her hands, enjoying his ministrations. "So..." she decided to tease him by quoting his words to Denise, "It's always _our_ way, huh? Doesn't sound like there's a designated pants-wearer in this relationship at all."

"There definitely isn't at the moment." He commented on their unclad state, leaned over and kissed the welts and scrapes on her bottom and back. "With this gorgeous view in front of me, I'm think'n pants-wear'n is the most reckless thing we do."

"And Denise said we **can't be reckless!** " She pointed her finger above her head, mocking their young doctor.

"Anyway," Rick pointed out, "I see more maternity dresses in your future, than pants."

"There are maternity pants out there too, don't forget." She reminded him a sleepy sing-song-y tone.

"Mnh-mnh." Rick disagreed. "I want to see you waddle around in big ugly dresses, like my Aunt Debbie. She was always pregnant. I'm pretty sure she was directly responsible for 90% of my cousins." Michonne giggled at his description. "Her house was the most fun though, always a birthday party going on..."

The tired woman closed her eyes and imagined, "I can't wait for birthdays here."

Rick finally stopped with the ointment, crawled over her and plopped down on his back, beside her, finally resting his tired muscles from a long day. He looked up at the spinning ceiling fan and yawned as he welcomed her into a peaceful cuddle under his arm. "Birthday parties mean running kids, screaming kids, crying kids, the inevitable puddle of puke and a massive mess to clean up."

"I know." She smiled at the thought of all that life and love and chaos under their roof. "I can't wait."

"Well, you just keep your sword ready. Maybe, we'll need it one day once little people outnumber us." Rick playfully suggested. "Y'know, just to make our threats more believable."

"Nope. You're on your own." Michonne declined. "I won't be doing anything, except sitting somewhere in a big ugly dress, cooking another bun in the oven like your aunt."

"Oh, that's cold. What happened to **our** way?" He reintroduced the concept.

"Think I'll let you wear the pants when it's time for birthdays."


	7. The Undeniable Truth

In the middle of the night Judith was fussy, Michonne sat up quickly on her least injured side. Her ears perked for what the little girl might need. Rick began to stir as well, as Michonne looked at the baby monitor and threw the covers off her naked body.

Feeling the cool air on his backside, Rick jumped up before her. "Don't you dare get up, woman. I got her."

"I thought she would settle down." Michonne said feeling guilty for not being the first one to their daughter.

"I did too." He agreed, pulling on his boxer briefs and tossed Michone one of her night shirts. "You mind if I bring her in here with us?"

"Of course not." Judith's was starting cry in earnest now. "Just hurry up and get my baby."

Rick returned with the little blonde resting on his shoulder rubbing her eyes. As soon as he reached the bed she nearly jumped out of his arms reaching for her mother. His two girls snuggled up to one another and down into the mattress. Rick knew mommy's rule: No talking in bed until Judith was sleep again, or their rosy-cheeked baby girl would think it was a slumber party and be up all night. So he and Michonne locked eyes smiling at each other in the moonlight, waiting for Judith to wind down. It didn't take long before baby Grimes was still and breathing lightly under Mama Bear's arm, her breast acting as her pillow.

"She's asleep." Mommy finally spoke to Daddy in the faintest of voices.

""Want me to take her back?"

"No. Let her stay." Michonne looked down at the golden silky strands of her hair and inhaled the sweet baby smell that the little one seemed to be losing a bit of day by day. "She's getting big too fast."

"But she's in my spot." Rick whispered with playful jealousy.

Michonne giggled very quietly, reaching out for his hand. They made contact over the little body between them. Daddy kissed the back of Mommy's hand and soon they were a trio of nothing more than inhales and exhales.

* * *

7:02 am Day 3

A knock at the door introduces Rick and Michonne to a gray morning. Their waking movements finally bring Judith out of a drooling slumber.

"Yeah?" Rick calls through the door, eyes barely open and tired muscles griping, as he grabs a pair of jeans and slides them up his legs.

"I was gonna get Judith for you guys this morning." Carl's muffled voice came back.

Michonne, still donning her little nightshirt, decided not to leave the comfort of the bed or attempt any of her form-fitting pants on her bruised rear end. "You can come in." she sanctioned, after determining she was sufficiently covered by the swirl of sheets around her. After being gone most of yesterday, she was happy to hear Carl's voice and see his face under his bandaged eye and limp brown hair.

"Hey." He peeked in fully dressed and Judith lit up, crawling the length of the bed to get to his ready arms.

"Hey." Michonne returned. "You're taking Judith?" A curious expression took over her face. Carl's longtime comrade was resting her elbow in the dent of her pillow, lazily palming the side of her face.

"Yeah. I wanted to get her first thing..." he turned her upside down, making the baby giggle as he did a quick smell check. He seemed pleased and continued, "...change her, feed her- give you guys a chance to sleep in. I know you're tired.

Michonne was still suspicious, "But you had her all day yesterday."

His 'world's-best-son' act started to crumble and he pursed his lips sideways, shifting on his feet, "Well it's not just me," he confessed. "Carol is making everyone keep Judith for an hour a piece today so you can get some rest. I get her first since I'm already here. Then she goes to her favorite guy. Then Glenn and Mag-"

"Wait a minute. I thought I was Judith's favorite guy?" Rick interrupted.

Michonne looked at him with an unconvinced smirk, "I thought Carl was."

"You're both wrong." the growing teenager informed them with a shrug. "Her favorite guy is Daryl." He tilted his head to his baby sister and bounced her on his hip. "Right, Jude? She nodded and babbled something that almost sounded like a yes and the room hummed with giggles.

"Wait, why am I resting, though?" Michonne wondered.

"Maybe because you got hurt yesterday and dad had to carry you through the streets with thorns in your butt..." Carl began to state the obvious.

"Oh, come on." Michonne interrupted, rolling her eyes with a chuckling sigh. "I'm fine. I do not need to be fussed over like I'm some baby."

"Hey! You're **my** baby." Rick took exception, reaching over pinching her cheek.

Now Carl rolled his eyes, embarrassed at his father's displays but secretly thankful that this affection was for a woman as incomparable as Michonne. "Great." He commented, falling back on dry sarcasm to address the happy scene before him, "So we're gonna go." He began to make his exit with Judith waving goodbye over his shoulder.

"Wait, Carl!" Michonne called him back, her mind moving to a new concern now, "How many people know about..." she narrowed her eyes trying to chose the right words to downplay her injuries.

"What? About how you got taken out by a bush?" He helped her out with a bit of brass.

She heard Rick chuckle at Carl's description, "No." Michonne corrected her smart-Alec son with a threatening glare in Rick's direction, "I was going to say- how many people know about my little... mishap?"

"Everybody!" Carl seemed very entertained, answering with delight. "Everyone's talking about it..." Carl began to laugh, "Abraham said you'll be quoting more scriptures than Gabriel, now that you're so 'holey'."

A humorous snort escaped Rick again and he quickly turned to his dresser drawer, pretending to look for something to avoid Michonne's evil-eye but he could feel the burn of her stare in his back. He made his way to his toothbrush to escape anymore repercussions.

"I'll see you guys later." Carl made his way to the door as Michonne's jaw tensed.

But her motherly instincts trumped her irritation, "You both need jackets today. It looks chilly out!" Michonne provided instructions to her children as the door closed behind them.

"Look, Chonne. If they want to take the baby for a couple hours, why make a stink about it? You need the rest." Rick made the argument as he walked over, drying his face with a towel and locked the bedroom door- a telltale move that did not escape his observant bed-mate's attention.

Cutting her eyes at Rick, all too aware of his ulterior motives for wanting her to "rest" baby-free, she chided, "If people want me to get some rest, they need to take turns watching you, not Judith."

'I won't deny it..." He twanged making his way to her over the sheets, "I **am** happy to get my spot back." He snuggled up to where Judith had been, resting his cheek on that same pillowy breast. "Ahhhh," he exaggerated an exhale of contentment, "It's good to be back." He looked up from under the triangle of her bicep and forearm supporting her head, laden with her unruly locs falling everywhere around her face. He hoped to catch her enticing dark brown eyes smiling back at his antics.

But no, she was still deep in thought. Her face was still trained to their bedroom door, when Rick, hungry for her attention, pulled one of her spongy locs signaling his bid for a kiss, which she obliged him- meeting his lips upside down, with a nose to chin reversal. He could see she was still distracted. "Hey?" He re-positioned himself to mirror her pose on the bed, resting his head on a raised fist, his other hand pulling consolingly at the fleshy arch of her battered hip. "What's wrong?" he asked with real concern as he noticed her lack of excitement at the jackpot of more time alone together. Despite the overcast skies outside, he was anticipating bathing in the warm radiance of her happy smile all morning but she could only muster a single curl at the edge of her lips.

"I don't want people thinking I'm... not myself just because I'm with you now." she revealed somewhat dejected, looking right into his absorbing blues.

"Nobody thinks that." He rejected the idea swiftly and completely.

"Yeah, people do. You're not a woman. So you don't know." She corrected him as she silenced his soft pink lips with her fingertips. "We're either, too strong or too soft, too pretty or not pretty enough, the kind that fights or the kind that nurtures. People never assume that we can be more than one **kind** of woman. And when you add a relationship to the mix- especially a relationship with a man in your position- people are going to think, 'Good. Now she can drop the whole bad ass act and just... fade'... into... all your... _Rickness._ " They both chuckled in accord at her newly invented term. "Sorry. I couldn't think of better word, but you know what I'm saying."

"So let me get this straight," he took his fist from his temple, sitting up more attentively on his elbow, "you basically just want everyone to know that Michonne is still a bad ass?"

They both snickered again.

"Don't make it sound trivial." She said, shoving his shoulder back and giving him that big bright smile he was looking for. "I'm serious!"

"Me too!" He assured her. "Look, baby, I don't make a lot of promises." He took her hand firmly in his, "They're so hard to keep 'cos you never know what might happen day to day. But some things don't require promises, they're just undeniable truths. And one of those truths is that: everyone will always know you are Princess Bad ass.

Michonne's mouth dropped open taking slight offense, "Not **Queen** Bad ass?"

Rick delicately ventured to explain, "Uhh...sorry, 'Chonne. I'm pretty sure Carol holds that title." He made her double over laughing and continued speaking over her fracturing, "That's why everyone agreed to take our diaper-wearing infant for an hour today and you're sitting here pouting..." They both laughed heartily at his assessment, "but you didn't go against her orders, did you?"

"No I did not. I am not fucking with Carol." They continued to crack up together.

"Our people know you and these new folks will know how bad ass Michonne is too... even if you do melt under all this _Rickness_." He said as he confidently turned her over slowly onto her back, careful not to cause her any pain, dispensing little pecks of sweetness all over her coffee-colored face.

Her giggle fit gradually dissolved underneath him. "You think so?"

"I know so." He interrupted his barrage of kisses, pulling back for emphasis, "If anyone gets out of line, I'm sure you'll remind them of your bad ass ways real quick." He brought her hand up to the back of his head, "I think I still have lump back here from that time you had to remind me."

"Oh, shut up!" she grinned, twisting his sleek curls through her fingers, "You do not have any lumps because of me."

"Ok, maybe that one's gone, but there's definitely one in my pants right now." He pressed his thick manhood against her hip as it began to grow, filling with desire. "Sucks that Carol's making you rest." he whispered in her ear hot like the burn of whisky as his timbre traveled over her tingling skin.

Michonne's eyes closed as her legs fell open to him. He looted her lips until his tongue fell upon hers, tasting the lingering of last night's spearmint and baking soda. "Carol took the baby... mmmm..." she moaned as he found her breast, squeezing his hand around it. Michonne had to start her sentence again and focus on her words, "She took the baby and left the bag of apples... she knows as well as we do, that **that** is entrapment."

"But, really, baby, if you're too sore from yesterday..." the shirtless temptation above her offered her an out.

"Still talking shit, huh?" She shook her head, misunderstanding his meaning.

But Rick was quick to clarify, "No," he grinned, "I mean from when you fell... your scratches. I don't want to hurt you."

Michonne sighed, "Shut up and fuck me, Rick." She mumbled through a kiss and pulled back, pointing her finger up at him with a new rule: "Don't forget: I'm a damn bad ass."

"Yes ma'am. You don't have to tell me twice." He pulled her only article of clothing over head and she wiggled out of her shirt to help him. Rick was overjoyed once her delicious breasts bounced free and her naked body laid spread out before him. The pads of her fingertips slid swiftly up his neck again, followed by the grazing of her nails over his scalp as she pulled at a tuft of hair guiding his mouth down to her nipples.

Arching her back, she silently encouraged him to suck. The forceful pull of his tongue, framed by his nearly white beard, made her feel like metal vibrating under a magnet's control, as he moved expertly from one pointed bit of dark, shrunken flesh over to the next.

Completely caught up in her perfection, he quickly forgot that she bore brand new abrasions as his hands descended, devouring her solid succulent skin 'til he reached his preferred place to grasp her tightly. Like the grip of his hatchet, machete, or Colt Python he squeezed those equally deadly curves causing Michonne to inhale sharply through her teeth at the dulling pain. "Sorry, 'Chonne." Rick quickly apologized through a rasp, "I forgot that quick..."

The sudden throe may have caught her off guard, but she was familiar with the route his hands took when the measure of her man stiffened like a shallow lake in winter. She daydreamed about their intimate moments whenever she was not in the midst of one. She knew every step, every beat of this dance, even when he surprised her- she knew Rick Grimes. She had smiled knowingly, bracing herself when she felt his palms dragging southward and immersed herself wholly in the intense sensation of his heedless craving.

The pain she felt was no match to her glowing pride in effectively summoning his most feral instincts without any effort whatsoever. Only her being was needed to sweep him into the undertow of their passion. Still smirking, Michonne gave him reprieve, closing her eyes and slowly shaking her head. "Don't stop." she ordered him, even as her breath hitched from the discomfort. He hesitated, looking up to her with his water-color eyes set ablaze, his lips parted to protest. But Michonne lifted a finger to her lips. Her other hand palmed his crown, pushing his face gently to the moistening crux of her thighs, where Rick had every intention of obeying her order not to stop.

All the arteries feeding his erection began to seethe at hearing her say what she wanted from him without shame and pirating what she needed from him without reservation. He lagged his teeth over her skin, descending to the heart of his kingdom, his domain, wrapped in thin slick folds of delicate flesh. He entered the sacred double doors with the tip of his rigid tongue and every inch of her heralded his presence with euphoric allegiance.

"Oh! Yes." She blurted as her legs tensed. Rick detained her thighs, pushing them apart with such aggression, Michonne thought it possible she'd end up with her own bowlegged strut. "Rick, yes! All of it! Take it... All of it!" Soon she panted out her release, holding his head in place and coating his facial hair with her glossy glaze. He sounded out his gruff appreciation, droning out wanton moans of his own into her depths. Nestling her seat in the loving hold of his cupped hands, he raised her center closer to his face, like a bowl of elixir that transforms boys to men and men to gods. He pulled out as much of her sweetness as he could, drinking her down. Michonne twitched with pleasure like the gears of a clock and Rick was proud to tell the time. Her falsetto invited him to the main event. He sat up quickly on his knees to let his hulking member spring loose from his jeans and- catching her in the middle of her high- catapulted her like a rocket, zipping through the hazy clouds.

Face to face with her again, this time, with the smell of her essence smeared on his lips and intoxicating them both, Rick pulled her body onto his and planted his back into the mattress. His hands splayed across her middle, his fingers hooked and digging into her abs and the lower ribs of her back, he held on as Michonne rode him closer to his completion. "You feel so good…' she strangled out the words as she whimpered, "Rick, you feel... Fuck! You feel so good… so good... so fucking good… fucking… good…" She was glitching, lost in a loop of arousal and satisfaction as she brought him deeper inside herself, his unbending, soul-searching cock hastening to a dead stop at her core with every forceful bounce.

"Chonne." Rick's voice broke over her name weakly. He answered her repetitious song using her own words to announce another undeniable truth, "Yes, you are, baby. Yes you are… so fuck'n good!"

She switched from a jacking motion to a grind, so grueling for them both, that her hips barely made a full series of revolutions around his beefy bare cock before he succumbed to her, simultaneously filling her up and pulling her down as her climax drizzled all over the length of his diminishing shaft.

Their chests heaved in unison as their sense of sight and sound gradually returned and she lifted a knee to slowly roll off the man she adored.

Planting her face in her pillow, then pulling closer to the wasted captive sprawled out beside her, she smiled through heavy lids and thick lashes, "Let that be a lesson to you, Grimes…" she huffed, barely able to speak, "and don't forget..."

"I'll never forget it…" his breath was so ragged, "as long as I live." he swore, sweeping his damp hair back from his flushed and heavenly face. "Michonne is a fuck'n bad ass… Shit."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I've gotten a couple reviews concerning Rick calling Carol the queen.**

 **Don't read too much into that, as the conversation had taken a more**

 **lighthearted turn. Everyone may have their favorites, but I don't**

 **believe we can rank the women of TF and I don't think any of them**

 **would consider themselves "the queen" when there are so many**

 **capable, beautiful, intelligent women in the group.**

 **That part of this fic is about Rick teasing Michonne. It is not about him**

 **putting Carol above any of the other bad ass chicks in the group,**

 **especially his baby Michonne.**

 **Thanks for feedback guys. I love how y'all ready to come for my head**

 **when it comes to Michonne! LOL**

 **(She's MY baby, too)**


	8. Ten Minutes

9:17 am Day 3

An hour after the ride of his life, so far, Rick found himself waking up to the buttery smell of Michonne's pancakes and he felt like he had died a blissful death and gone to pancake heaven. "Yes!" he rejoiced in a whisper to himself anticipating her cooking, eagerly padding downstairs to find the dusky hued object of his obsession.

He caught a glimpse of her in the kitchen as he turned the corner from the steps. Her back was turned to him as she was facing the stove and she swayed her hips to the tune of Nina Simone's 'Do I Move You' playing at a moderate volume from the small speakers of the CD player on the counter. Michonne's hips dipped sensually at the soulful composition and she sang along with a carefree hand in the air. She had the image of one particularly _moving_ face in her mind- the same stubbled face that she couldn't see smiling behind her now, alight with enough love to unsteady his breaths.

"Do I move you

Are you willing

Do I groove you

Is it thrilling"

Michonne shimmied, happily, side to side as the lyrics took her thoughts back to the past few days. Days thick with so much dreamy eroticism, she couldn't tell sometimes where his soft kisses ended and her face-melting orgasms began.

"Do I sooth you, tell the truth now

Do I move you, are you loose now

the answer better be YES-

That pleases me..."

Michonne sang into her wooden spoon while Rick watched her doing unseen work, listening to her cover of the soul singer's ode to dirty talk. His attention was trained on the motions of her curves under the pleasantly inadequate cover of her his denim shirt that she had, once again, absconded from under his nose. For her crime of grand theft denim, he decided to sneak up behind her and strum her tickle spot until she screamed.

He devilishly crept closer and closer to the back of her, sandwiching is tongue between his pink lips to stifle an impending burst of laughter.

"I was just about to come get you." She said sensing his presence but never actually turning around. "I made you pancakes."

His attempt foiled, his sneaky demeanor deflated as he sidled up next to her at the stove and rubbed a hand over her injured backside.

"Haven't you learned: you'll never get me, Rick." She chuckled knowingly as she stirred the pan in front of her."

"I haven't got you, **yet**." Rick admitted. "But never is a long time..." He refused to concede, pinching a piece of pancake off the plated golden stack on the counter. "Mmmm." he approved, "Come on, Chonne," He bumped his pelvis into her hip, "Tell me how you make'um so fluffy. We use the same mix and the same water and my pancakes come out all thick and dry. Look at this!" he picked up one of her freshly made pancakes and dangled it before her eyes. The perfectly round cake wiggled back and forth full of airy, fluffy goodness. Rick sounded amazed and sad, "You could play Frisbee with mine!"

Michonne politely held in laughter at his comparison. "I can't reveal my secrets, Rick. A lady has to maintain some sense of mystery." She brought her hand up to his face looming over her shoulder, stroking his fuzzy cheek. "Your pancakes are..." she tried to be honest but nice "...edible."

"Oh-ho-ho!" he howled, chuckling at her descriptive burn. Her ribs were fair game now for that smart mouth and her wardrobe-related larceny and he intended to be merciless. His fingers went to work and Michonne immediately tensed and begged around the shriek of his name.

Her pleas falling on deaf ears, she finally brandished the tip of her greasy wooden spoon. She popped his attacking knuckles causing him to jerk back with a yelp and retreat. With him finally at bay, she promised with a stern voice through narrowed eyes, "You better back up off me or I'm gonna break this thing on your fingers."

He surrendered completely, hands in the air, still wincing at the ache she'd laid out on his digits, but even with the pain he couldn't stop laughing. She shook her head with an incredulous smile at his phony sheepish expression, feeling justified in her use of force and took advantage of his current compliance to talk tough. The samurai with the wooden spoon ordered him as she gestured over to the table, "Now, get over there and sit down so we can eat."

Rick began to slink over to the table, followed by Michonne with her hands full of their breakfast: a plate of pancakes and a pan of doctored-up canned corned beef hash.

She walked behind him confidently, looking for any sudden movements. Knowing Rick, she was sure that he was still waiting for the perfect time to strike again. Sure enough, just before he took his seat, he lurched at her threatening another attack just to see her flinch.

"Oh, shit!" Michonne jumped. "I knew you were gonna do that too!" she granted with a scowl as he laughed, tickled to death.

" _You'll never get me, Rick_." he mocked her earlier words as she gave him an eye roll of epic proportions.

"Shut up and eat." Michonne sighed as she moved half the stack to his plate, accompanied by two heaps of corned beef hash. She cut her pancakes into triangles, poured a light glaze of syrup on them and sat back in her chair, holding her plate to her chest and sliding her feet into Rick's lap.

He sat at one end of the table with her to his left, watching her eat, oblivious to the audience of his eyes. He envied that fork as she pulled it clean from her plush pressed lips. He coveted the moan of delight she gave to her syrup-slicked pinky as she sucked it dry. Finally, half done, Michonne noticed Rick slouched with one arm thrown over the back of his chair, his eyes locked on her.

"Eat." she bid him without stopping her own feasting.

"I can't. You broke my fingers." He held up both hands for inspection. "Look."

She smiled, lips pursed at his ridiculousness. "I did not break your fingers."

"You did. They're definitely broken. I would go to the infirmary, but I don't need Denise's shit, today." He hammed it up, "I can't eat... unless you help me. You gotta feed me." He pulled her chair right next to his and kissed the shine of syrup from her bottom lip.

Michonne laughed through his entire performance, a giggling snort slipping out when he finally revealed his ultimate motive. "Of course, I have to feed you." she nodded with sarcasm and amusement. She scarfed down the last bit on her plate and reached for his, cutting, pouring and forking, she raised the food to his mouth with a persistent smirk. "What's this thing with me feeding you all the time now?" she wondered.

He continued with his satire through crowded cheeks, "Beside my broken fingers?" Michonne did not even deign to answer him, choosing to eat a few of his pancakes instead with a smug expression. "Hey!" Rick acted quickly and caught her arm, guiding another bite from her hand to his mouth. He concluded happily, "It tastes better when you feed me."

"So..." Michonne sat closer, calculating their expectations of one another in this advancing relationship. She raised the loaded fork again, waiting for him to chew and swallow, "I have to cook **and** feed you, too?" she pretended to complain.

"I mean... I have to let you wear my shirt **and** undress you too... so..." Rick accused her equally, then gave her a sentimental tone, "That's what we're supposed to do... we're partners right? Gotta take care of each other?" He drawled, his tone implying it was a question as held her feet in his hands, dotingly pinching her toes and applying pressure to the balls of her feet.

"Yes. We do." Michonne agreed wholeheartedly, lost in those azure eyes. She couldn't think of a thing he could ever ask of her that she would deny him and she knew, without a doubt, that the same was true for him when it came to her. She filled his mouth again and thrilled herself as she pleased him in this simple way.

Rain began to tap against every surface outside and still Nina offered her two cents to the moment as 'Angel of the Morning' delicately chimed under the banter and sweet nothings.

"So what do you want to do today?" He asked her as he traipsed his fingers up her legs to her thighs, then back down to the soles of her feet, always greedy to handle some part of her silken body.

"There's enough to do." she acknowledged after blowing out a prematurely exhausted breath. "Laundry, the bathrooms need a good scrubbing, boxes of supplies are still in the garage, unorganized..."

Rick put his foot down, "No, Michonne, no work." His voice was stern in a way that she knew meant business.

"Okay." she yielded, "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"Someth'n fun." Rick took a sip of his chilled, honeyed tea and lifted his brow, "Strip poker?"

"Strip poker?" she repeated, not the least bit surprised at his idea. "But all I have on is a shirt, Rick!"

"Then you better win every hand."

"No, Rick. No strip poker. That's not fair. I told you I don't know how to play!"

"I told you, I'll teach you." He promised in vain.

She threw a suspicious look his way. " _And_ I told you I can't trust you to teach me when your objective is to get me naked."

"But that always my objective no matter what we're doing." He revealed with a look that says she should have known. Michonne huffed and rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. "Okay," Rick allowed, "I'm sure we can make strip poker work with any other game. So, tell me, what game would you be _comfortable_ challenging me in, when you know I'll be hell-bent on taking my shirt back- so I can see all those parts of you that belong to me?" He kicked his chair back from the table and drew her into his lap, sweeping her locs away from her neck. He touched her there lightly and put her on notice as thunder spoke in the sky, "Cos you know I'm gonna get that shirt back, don't you?"

Her competitive nature effectively triggered, Michonne suggested, "Every time I win, we'll clean for 20 minutes?"

"Ten." Rick adjusted. "And every time I win, we spend ten minutes do'n... someth'n... better than clean'n."

Leaving their dishes at the table, they peered into the large storage ottoman where they housed all their board games. They had plenty available to stave off boredom and they used them a lot. "Sports Trivia?" Rick suggested, looking up at Michonne as he crouched to sift through their game night inventory. She declined his choice with a wrinkled nose, standing on the other side of the container with her arms crossed, already in the mental space to defeat the man appropriately at her feet. "Battleship?... That's strategy..." He raised a brow in offering.

"Mnh unh." Michonne had a taste for something different, but she didn't know exactly what. "What else?"

"Scrabble?"

"Nah."

"Taboo?"

"Not enough players."

"... Uno... Chinese checkers..."

"Pick something we never play." she requested.

"Ok..." Rick pulled up a brown box with gold writing, "Never played this before. It's Gabe's."

Michonne laughed at the title. "You really want to play **this** for sexual favors?"

"Why not? I feel like the Lord is with me." He joked in a pious tone.

"Okay." Michonne nodded confidently. "Bible Trivia it is. But full disclosure, I went to church with my grandma every Sunday when I stayed with her for the summer and she made me pay attention."

"Well, I watched the 'Ten Commandments' every Easter when it came on TV." Rick countered. "You ready?"

They agreed to their made-up rules: _Your opponent reads the question from a category of your choosing. It continues to be your turn until you answer incorrectly. The first person to get three questions right wins that round and ten minutes to spend on the activity of their choice._

"Ladies first." Rick instructed from his side of the couch. "Pick your category."

"Ummm..." Michonne studied her choices. "Let's go with... Bible Contents." she pointed and rubbed her hands together with anticipation.

Rick cleared his throat, "Okay." He read from the little blue card, "These four Bible books are commonly referred to as the 'gospel'. Name them in order."

"Does it really say they have to be in order?" She asked, wary of sabotage.

Rick was insulted, "Yes! What kind of person cheats playing a Bible game? The books of the gospel... in order, please." he motioned with his fingers for her to come forth with her answer.

"Uhhh..." Michonne stalled as she mumbled to herself possible answers, counting on her fingers for accuracy.

"C'mon!" Her challenger called, lighting a fire under her.

"Okay! Ummm... Matthew, Mark, J- no, Luke and John?" She scrunched her face, awaiting the verdict. Slowly it came...

"Correct." Rick sighed as Michonne celebrated with a bounce in her seat, willing to endure the pain of her bruises to gloat in front of him.

"You want to calm down?" He tried to inflate her excitement, "It's only the first question." She poked out her tongue and asked for the next question from the same category, this time a little more confident. Rick pulled another card, "Which Bible book contains the most chapters?"

"That's easy. Psalms!" She slammed her hand on the coffee table with no hesitation.

Rick was surprised, "How did you know that?"

"I told you how. Thanks grandma!" She pointed to the sky. "One more and we're gonna bust some suds!" She got three correct answers and led Rick, by the hand, to the kitchen and they cleaned up the mess from breakfast and folded half a basket of laundry before the timer they stole from another game buzzed after ten minutes. Michonne made a victorious strut back to the couch, taking her seat again with a grand flourish, "Okay. Category?"

"Old Testament Bible Characters." Rick said with his intense game-face on.

The lady in the lead ran her hands over the row of orange cards and intuitively settled on one that gave her a good vibe. "This Bible character accompanied his brother, Moses, to Egypt to demand the release of the Hebrew slaves."

"Aaron." Rick said with no pomp whatsoever. "Next question, same category."

Michonne refused to congratulate him, "Okay. You got lucky. That's Ten Commandments stuff..."

"I told you the Lord is with me, Chonne."

"Whatever..." She dismissed his claim of divine favor and posed his next question. "Okay. This Bible character's superhuman strength came from his uncut hair worn in seven braids... Hmmm." Michonne looked at the answer on the card and was not familiar.

Rick quickly gave his answer and watched her sweat. "Samson. Next question, same category." He said without a blink.

Rick knew the correct answer to the next question but it was not the one he gave. He threw his round so his neat-freak beauty could have the sparkling bathroom she wanted. But she got so many questions wrong it took her multiple rounds to give three correct answers. She had no clue, but her devoted sweetheart forfeited all his questions to get her there. And once she won, Michonne didn't hold back rubbing it in. "Looks like my 'holey-ness' is coming in handy. The Lord seems to have a new best friend." her laughter echoed in the acoustics of the bathroom as they cleaned together. She even mocked him as his biceps flexed, scrubbing the tub like a slave. She sang the old negro spiritual, 'Let My People Go'. But Rick just smiled at his work, knowing he had a secret ace in the hole.

On to a new round, she had to guess Jacob's only named daughter, "Sarah?" She tried again, "Rachel?" She began to sweat, "Wait, wait, wait!... She ran over to the music, barely discernible to the ear and turned off Miss Simone mid-note. "I can't focus with this background noise!"

"Aww, come on, Michonne," Rick reprimanded in disappointed, disapproving tone, "don't blame Nina."

Michonne couldn't come up with the right answer on her final try and Rick was now up at bat. He chose a category, "Red Letter Scriptures."

"And ye shall know the truth and..." Michonne read the card for Rick and waited for him to answer correctly. She was unimpressed already… even **she** knew this quote.

"The truth shall make you free." He said with ease and kissed her lips proudly. "Next."

"And forgive us our debts..."

"As we forgive our debtors." He leaned back on the couch totally poised.

Michonne tried to hide her nervousness as Rick edged closer to a winning round, "Same category?" He nodded and she plucked his next card, "For unto whomsoever much is given..."

With the correct answer on his tongue, Rick set the timer first. Snatching the purple card from her hand and tossing it over his shoulder, he employed all his swagger and finished the words, "...Of him shall be much required." As though he were being egged on by the Man Upstairs, lightning lit up the room as he advanced on her with that handsome smirk that made Michonne a puddle of desire. He laid her back slowly, kissing her lips, in the same spot- on the same couch where their first kiss had blossomed into a fire that only swelled with each passing day.

"How did you get all those right?" She asked as he took a gentle bite from her neck.

Rick shrugged, "Your grandma must still be look'n out for you." He smoldered into her chest. 'Cos you know what I'm gonna do with my ten minutes."

As his ten minutes ticked away, Rick's chosen activity really only amounted to a glorified make-out session, but he enjoyed every second teasing the woman stretching his t-shirt to pull him closer with a vice-like grip. He purposely kept his hands off her and pressed them into the couch, aiming the weight of his restricted hard-on down to her heated mound. She rocked up on to the proof of his singeing need as his tongued swirled around hers, his sky blues staring down her pecan browns.

When the timer went off, Rick mumbled, "That's time." But he could barely move away to continue the game with Michonne's hand's pulling his face to hers and her legs wrapped around his waist. "Chonne, baby, that's time." He repeated and grinned at her greedy transformation. "You want any more, you got to answer three questions right."

Michonne sighed and sat up. She defiantly turned back the dial on the timer to ten as Rick reached for the box of cards.

"Category?" He ignored her persistent affections, continuing with the game according to plan.

"The orange ones." She said with little thought as she chased him to his side of the couch, charging his soft kiss-swollen lips.

"Okay. Bible Characters." He reminded her of the category, trying to keep his eyes on the card as she ran her fingers through his curls and her tongue over his neck. Rick began to read, "This prophet..."

Quickly, Michonne snatched the card from his hand and read the answer quickly, "Jeremiah."

"Seriously, Chonne?" He chuckled against her mouth, "What kind of person cheats playing a Bible game?" Rick brought up his earlier question, shaking his head at the temptress currently removing his t-shirt.

"The kind of person who has a man **this** gorgeous, suddenly so concerned with following the rules. Next card, please." Michonne requested with sass.

Rick lifted another card from the stack, "Chonne!" He tried to stop her as she stole the card again and read the answer,

"Zeph- Zephna... Ugh! I can't pronounce that name." She spoke hurriedly at Rick's lips, "But it's this guy." She said displaying the card in front of Rick's face and tossing it over her shoulder, she brought her hand to the massive bulge in his lap. "Oh, my god!" Her eyes rolled back and her neck went limp at the feeling of him stiff in her palm.

"Close enough." Rick took her steamy exclamation as the correct answer and sank back into the couch, relishing her stormy invasion of his lips and neck. He was completely done with games.

Michonne stood up before him and hastily unbuttoned her top. She peeled it off and tossed it to him, exposing her perfectly rounded breasts, her wide hips and the slick moist slit between her thighs. "There's your shirt back." she said as she knelt between his legs and yanked his jeans open.

"So you're just gonna break my fingers, cheat at the game and then take advantage of me?" Rick asked as he assisted her efforts, lifting his lower half until his pants gave way.

"Oh, sorry... Tell me you want me to stop." Michonne paused for the briefest moment, resting her cheek on his thigh with daring flames under her feminine lashes. Rick didn't make a peep, only sliding his tongue over his bottom lip, as he brought his hand to the back of her head and pulled her a titillating inch closer to his loins. Michonne smirked, "I thought so." With a whiny moan, she brought him into her warm mouth, taking the head of his dripping cock immediately to the back of her throat.

"You're so beautiful... Chonne" He tilted her chin higher for a better look, but his words failed him at the sight of her sucking his veiny length aggressively, the wet suction nearly crossing his eyes. Dead silence filled the room save for Rick's coarse grunts of satisfaction, the stinging smack of Michonne's lips plastered on his sensitive cock and the soothing patter of rain.

She was enamored by the sweet taste of his skin and the powerful feel of him twitching heavy on her tongue as her neck rolled and her head bobbed. Michonne began to clutch at his strong thighs, the fabric of his jeans balled up tightly in her hands. She released his shaft from her lips, feeling it bounce against her face as she teased his tightening balls with the tip of her tongue. Rick could never get tired of this view: his rose colored dick towering in front of her mahogany face smirking devilishly up at him. She curled her fingers around the base of his proud dick and latched on again, pursuing his release by pulling his engorged cusp back and forth between her hollowed cheeks.

Unable to hold on one more second, he heard himself groaning out her name as he drenched her taste buds with his lush, briny cum. Michonne backed away, his squirting member fell from her mouth and the last of his thick pearly streams decorated her breasts and chest. Rick lustfully gripped her hair nearly to the point of pain, lifting her to arrest her lips with his own. Reaching forward to pinch her nipple, he gave her a short tingling wave of satisfying rhapsody all over her body. Her throaty cry filled his ears as her own juices trickled down her thighs. Then, as if on cue, the timer dinged.

 _"You'll never get me Rick..."_ he repeated, feeling compelled to remind her how many ways **he'd had** **her** **already**. As evidenced by her climaxing without him even so much as touching her pussy and the tipsy expression on her face, he reminded her that she was desperately addicted to being had by him.

After recovering, Michonne had questions. "Tell me how you knew all those verses and stuff." she was still puzzled, wiping her chest with his white tee.

Rick negotiated, "I'll tell you, if you tell me how you make your pancakes."

"Deal." Michonne agreed as she hugged a couch pillow close to her chest, resting her face on the cushion. She stretched out on her stomach across his lap, her backside still a little red and tender.

"My mother was a nurse. She worked the graveyard shift most Saturday nights." He started, resting his head lazily on the back of the couch, still wasted from the his baby's work.

"Yeah..."she prodded.

"So, my grandparents watched me while she was at work."

Michonne grew impatient, "So... how did you know?"

"My granddad was a Sunday school teacher. And I went with him every Sunday for years until I was old enough to stay home alone." Michonne looked back at him, her jaw hanging loose and her eyes stretched wide. "I knew **all** those answers..." he revealed "...and honestly your knowledge of the good book is border-line pathetic." He insulted her while simultaneously caressing her body thrown across his own.

She was taken aback and choked out an affronted chuckle. "You didn't think you should have mentioned that?" She asked, still staring over her shoulder at his nonchalant mood.

"Nope." He told her point blank. "Now, those pancakes... Let's go." he returned to the quiet-kept recipe. "What are you putting in them that I don't know about?"

Michonne couldn't believe he had the nerve to expect her to honor their deal after acknowledging such blatant trickery. Her spiteful answer came with a throw pillow hurtling to his face, "I use holy water, you jerk!"


	9. Threats and Roses

_**Thank you for all your reviews and support. I just love to hear from you guys.**_

 _ **I think I'm in love with all you. I'm taking us all to Red Lobster! LOL**_

 _ **-comewithnattah**_

* * *

6:03 pm Day 3

"So you fucked around and hooked you a country boy, Huh?" Daryl grunted out as he plucked a card from the deck in the middle of the dining room table. He wouldn't meet her eyes at first, hiding behind his limp brown hair.

Michonne scoffed modestly while she studied her cards to see if she could use the one he'd just thrown out. "Is that what I did?" she countered him coyly.

"It ain't?" Daryl finally sat back thoughtfully, bold enough now to stare her down openly, waiting for her response.

Michonne sensed a seriousness uncharacteristic of her friend. "I don't know if he's hooked." she lied.

"Don't know if he's hooked..." Daryl repeated sarcastically and turned his head to the side with a restless tick for a glimpse of nothing in particular. He saw Tara pointing furiously with a marker at a drawing that resembled a melting duck. Carl and Edith were blurting out answers while Judith played with a puzzle on the couch cushions between them. Glenn, Maggie and Carol were on the other side of the coffee table heckling them as they tried to guess Tara's uninspired work of art.

Rick and Michonne had enjoyed the better part of the day alone but, somehow, with the rain, everybody ended up together in the living room, dining room and kitchen that they all shared when they arrived in Alexandria weeks ago. The hum of multiple conversations over multiple games would have been much louder if Abraham had been in the room, but he and Sasha were at the wall, content to be on the front lines and secretly happy to be alone together. Abe was in rare form trying to make the persistently indifferent beauty beside him laugh. Sasha was easily succumbing to all his foolery smiling like daylight while the smoke-colored sky fell all around them leaving droplets in her raven hair that looked like stars.

Back in the house, Daryl's tone was playful but his mannerisms read somewhat annoyed- about what, Michonne wasn't sure. "I don't know what you want me to say... "She reached tentatively for a card, her eyes bouncing from his face to her hand.

Daryl smoothed some of his hair back and scoffed. "Yeah, he's fuck'n hooked. He's hooked like a pirate's hand."

The newly claimed woman tried to swallow a hot, rising smile. Flustered, she couldn't focus on her cards. What the hell combination was she going for? She felt a little like she was being interrogated but she didn't know to what end. "How do you know he's hooked?" she asked with a bit of attitude.

"C'mon dude, I known Rick's first wife." Daryl said with the unspoken acknowledgment that he was talking to Rick's current wife, "He never, ever looked at her the way he looks at you."

Michonne smiled at that, but at the same time she felt for Rick if what Daryl said was true. Talking about Lori wasn't something she and Rick did much of, but Michonne was well acquainted with being in a hollow relationship. She cut her eyes over to the man at the center of their discussion. He was standing at the kitchen island involved in a conversation with Father Gabriel. She could tell by the pleading look on his face that he wanted her to come save him from whatever painful conference the Father seemed to have ensnared him in. Amused, she abandoned Rick to his current circumstances with a cute little wink that said 'good luck', while she did a little interrogating of her own. "How does he look at me, Daryl?"

"Shit," the self-proclaimed hillbilly chuckled and flipped out a card, "Like you're gooder den grits."

Michonne laughed out loud but then collected it all into a quieter giggle behind her fan of cards. "I'll take that." She said of the hick-ish phrase. "And I'll take this too." She snatched up the card as it slid toward the discarded pile.

Unfazed, her friend followed up, "So?"

"So?" Michonne lifted a brow slightly and shook her head, confused.

"Look," Daryl dropped his entire hand face down on the table. "Rick can't go through any shit like that again." he said with authority. "I been holdin' my tongue, 'cos he's a big boy. And I know when his intentions are good... even when he couldn't quite give Lori the same look he gives you, his _intentions_ were still good."

"Yeah?" Michonne got that but still questioned his point.

"But I don't know _you_ like that..."

Michonne shrank an eye at that, unsure how to respond. "What do you mean you 'don't know me like that'? I'm your friend- I'm your family, just like Rick is."

"Yeah, I know. But I also know sometimes family like'ta break ya heart til noth'ns left. And I ain't talk'n 'bout how it broke him when Lori died... you seen'at for yourself. From what I seen'a them two together, she was long gone before she died."

"Well, damn, Daryl." Michonne closed the set of cards in her hand, finally realizing that Daryl had asked her for a private game of gin with a hidden agenda. "This is the most I've heard you talk in a month." She gave a weak laugh, pushing to rid the space between them of some its tension. Daryl returned a half smile and the tension remained. So Michonne just got on with it. "Seems like you have something you want to say, so you should just say it."

He exhaled. 'A'ight, I know you're a bad ass," Michonne basked in his recognition as Daryl leaned forward and rested his arms on the table interlocking his fingers, "but Rick is my brother... I ain't watching him go through that shit again." He reiterated that point and his voice strained in a way Michonne was not expecting.

She remembered Merle, his brother by blood, and his undeserved devotion to that one-handed jerk. Daryl's devotion to Rick made her love for the man eyeing her from the kitchen a little more worshipful and a lot more addictive. She looked around the room at all the people Rick had gotten here alive. She was one of those people. She looked at Carl with Judith now in his arms, both of them thriving and happy because her man, their graying guardian had one job: to keep them all safe.

Daryl's protectiveness endeared her. Her initial offense to his statements faded warmly over the features of her face, giving way to sentimental amusement, "Are you seriously asking me what my _intentions_ are with Rick Grimes?"

Daryl saw the humor in that too and softened, just a tad, as he realized, "I guess I am. Bein' a husband and a father is his thing... but never figured a hellion like you for the domestic lifestyle..."

"I'm as domesticated as a house cat, Daryl, don't you worry." The vision in dark chocolate skin smiled wide and bright back at Daryl, then over at Rick, tracking her eyes to him past the obstruction of Gabe's tall frame.

"Cats can be assholes." Her gin rummy challenger retorted, not so convinced.

Michonne rolled her eyes at his relentless dissatisfaction. "I take it you're a dog person then?"

"Kinda partial to bunnies." Daryl joked honestly.

"Well, be easy, silly rabbit." She said, picking up her cards again to resume their game. "Tricks are for kids and Rick and I are two adults. Neither of us are playing games."

Daryl took a running leap then, and crossed so far over the line Michonne sat stunned, mouth ajar. "So you love him then?" His query making her heart boom visibly under the pilfered blue denim she wore.

"Daryl." She finally spoke, this time to set him straight, "Rick knows how I feel about him and trust me," her eyes widened with a new and touching, albeit grating, understanding of the closeness between the two men. "I know how _you_ feel about him. If I give you my word of honor, swear on everything and pinky-promise you that our guy is in absolutely no danger of bullshit from me, can we _please_ play gin instead of 21 Questions and enjoy the smooth sounds of you minding your business?"

She presented her curved little finger to seal the deal. Daryl caught her pinky with his own. "A'ight." he conceded, reluctantly. "Just remember, I know where you live." he joked with a humorously sinister eye. Michonne gave an affected eye roll, happy that _that_ seemed to be over. But her mouth fell open again when Daryl laid out his cards in an arch and declared, "Gin."

She sat back and threw her cards at the table. "Son of a-!" she spit, biting her tongue, with disbelief. "Was all that just to distract me so you could win?" Michonne snatched up the deck adding in the loose cards to shuffle and deal another round, more than a little peeved that she'd been bamboozled in a game twice that day. Daryl would neither confirm nor deny her accusation.

He slid back from the table, chuckling and his gloating made her seethe. "You want a beer?" he continued to taunt her with his cocky repose and made his way past Rick and Gabriel, headed for the fridge.

* * *

Rick was standing behind the couch, holding Judith and grinning as he watched the game of Pictionary his son and chosen family were playing with a rowdy pitch when he felt the sudden urge for a snack. Denise's bowl of homemade salt and vinegar chips on the coffee table were barely edible and the bowl of popcorn between Eugene and Rosita only had kernels left. The latter sat- indulging the former on a pillowed floor- serving as his assistant in building some incredible engineering feat with Legos.

Rick sat his daughter between her brother and Enid and made his way to the kitchen, throwing a wink to Michonne's slick gaze at the dining room table, both of their expressions reminding the other of the naughty deliciousness they'd scandalized this same living room with a few hours ago.

When Gabriel saw Rick headed for the kitchen he abandoned his seat in the cozy arm chair where he was enjoying a solitary reverie, scribbling in a leather-bound notebook and followed him with a contemplative bearing. He made eye contact with the leader of their group and consciously made himself smile. The cleric always found he was a little nervous when he talked to Rick. He knew that just below Rick's good-natured temperament, laid an Old Testament fury that he'd just as soon leave undisturbed. He had been working up the courage to ask Rick this question and now, with the carefree mood in the room, it seemed like an opportune time to broach the subject.

"Hey, Rick!" The man of faith began, taking extra care to sound upbeat.

"Gabe?" Rick glanced up with a smile still rooting around the kitchen island drawers, looking for a blueberry cereal bar. He saw apple cinnamon, strawberry, raspberry but no blueberry. He knew there were only a few of his favorite left but he couldn't believe they were all gone while all these other flavors remained. Maybe Carl had beat him to them. Disappointed, he closed the last drawer and noticed Gabriel still there... with a weird, unnatural smile. "What can I do for you?" Rick asked in a cheerful tone that relaxed his bald-headed friend- just a bit.

Gabe smiled, a little more genuinely now, "I just wanted to say that I've been watching you and Michonne." He immediately winced at the stalker-ish vibe that sentence might have given and sure enough, Rick's brow raised and furrowed, a bit uncomfortable and very confused. "Not watching!" Gabriel corrected with an apologetic hand gesture and another forced smile.

Truth was, he _had_ been watching Michonne for some time. He thought she was an extraordinary woman and uniquely beautiful. He had battled with himself over his religious vows to remain unfettered for the Lord and even then... well, Michonne scared the crap out of him and he could never get up the nerve to approach her. He found it curious that when he saw her with Rick- after all his prayerful pining away and hidden wishes- he wasn't disappointed or jealous. Gabe was pleased. He thought to himself that it was a perfect match. He felt compelled to tell Rick as much, too. "I've been-" he found a more appropriate word, " _noticing_ you two... how happy you are together. I wanted to say it suits you both."

Rick felt an undeniable validation in those words. He certainly was happy and it felt amazing to be a man _with a woman_ again, but not just any woman- with Michonne. He was even more gratified hearing that her happiness with _him_ could be pegged a mile away by someone like Gabriel- who Rick assumed didn't know much about women, given his chosen profession. He looked over to the dining room table at the beautiful angel who knew how to hush his demons but keep the beast alive. She was biting the inside of her bottom lip in concentration as she arranged the cards Daryl was tossing her way, one by one in her hand. It was a familiar sight to Rick by now, one he enjoyed any time they made love. At those times too, she was focused on a _win_.

The man in black, clad with a collar, continued, "I know it's a common assumption that since I took a vow of celibacy, a man like me wouldn't have any interest in the attachments between a man and a woman- but that is a very incorrect assumption." he shrugged.

As a person who thought exactly that, Rick found the priest's words surprising and decided to pay him more than the usual attention. He didn't really know where Gabe was going with these comments but he was curious. He offered the thin, mannerly man a short, interested "Hmm." and nodded.

"I've always thought there was nothing more captivating than two lovers baring their hearts to one another, discovering how their pieces fit together, making their way on an exclusive journey in life side by side..."

Rick shifted on his feet with a slightly awkward grin, ducking his head but agreeing all the same.

Gabriel looked off into some arbitrary corner of the kitchen, now going off on a tangent, "...two people so full of passion for each other, so eager to make physical expressions of love, the Bible describes it as _a most vehement flame_." he spoke in reverent whisper.

Rick blinked, "Yeah..." He cleared his throat to bring the enchanted priest back to earth and drawled, "Well... that sounds about right."

Gabriel snapped out of it leaned into Rick's personal space with a quieter, more risqué tone, "Did you know there is a whole book of the bible dedicated to an erotic love triangle?"

Rick was aware but he acted surprised. Gabe didn't give him the opportunity to answer, his tongue loosened by his enthusiasm. "It ends with the young woman choosing a commoner instead of the wealthy, charming king trying to win her affections. She has _faith in love_ and believes her poor shepherd boy is the only one for her." Gabe continued, "Seeing Glenn and Maggie together has given me hope that love like that vehement flame still exists." He looked into the living room at the named couple sharing a kiss over points acquired after Maggie had been able to get her husband to say the correct phrase with what could only be described as bubble hieroglyphics. Gabriel smiled to himself and then turned to Rick again, "And now... you and Michonne... I'm very inspired... excited..."

"So are we. I guess I..."

Gabe cut him off again as he went on with his confessions, "I wanted to talk to you because..." he began to feel sheepish again, "Well..." he swallowed, "In my old parish another priest, Father Gordon, always officiated the wedding ceremonies. But he never did them any justice... in my opinion. I just think I would give such a special occasion more... heart. You know?"

"I could see that." Rick's side eye was activated.

"So, I guess I want to ask..." Gabe's heart pounded, "if you and Michonne would let me... grant me the privilege of officiating for the first time over you two. It would be such an honor."

Rick would never have guessed that _that_ would be final destination of the nervous preacher's ramblings and for a moment he just stood there stunned his mouth slightly parted, droning out a nearly imperceptible "Uhhhhhhhhh..." He stood there really wishing Michonne was a part of this conversation. He figured she would know what to say and he gave her a look of desperation as he scratched his fuzzy chin pretending to think. She only gave him a useless wink as if to say a sarcastic 'good luck'.

Gabriel had finally stopped talking, now waiting for Rick to mull it over but also give a quick answer, judging by the hopeful anticipation on his face. But his suddenly stiff commander seemed to need a bit more convincing.

"I don't know..." he sighed, "I don't even know if that's something you'd want to do. I mean, even I could certainly see skipping all the formalities... this world being what it is, and all. But you were married before. I can tell you're a man who believes in tradition and that sacred institution." Gabriel thought of how else he could recommend himself for the job. "I get the feeling you're like me, Rick: a romantic, through and through." His eyes fell away to his hands, not sure if it was a good move comparing himself to such a brave and resolute man. As Rick pondered, Gabe remembered he was holding his journal and his eyes lit up again. "I even write short stories, poetry. I... I... uh... was just..." he stuttered, flipping hurriedly to the page in his mind, "I was just sitting over there," he turned slightly motioning behind him to the chair he'd occupied, "I... uh... wrote this about you... both... well, kind of... more so... about you."

Rick didn't know how he felt about a guy- a priest- writing poetry about him. But he saw the sincerity in Gabe's eyes as he found the page and looked to Rick for his permission to read. Being in a merry mood, the lawman gave a single nod, both curious and uncertain.

Gabriel took a deep breath and began:

"The soil, hard and packed

barren and cracked-

dry like the bleached bones of corpses

feasts tasted of dust

his heart pumping rust

'til rivers sprang forth like hundreds of horses

a woman of dusk

brought light he could trust

to lead him to drink and revive

and so the man sank

to his knees on the banks

living and truly alive"

Rick had prepared himself to be freaked out by whatever Gabe had written, but as the thinly mustached man began to read, he saw himself in the words. He kept his eyes on his boots, arms crossed and leaning with his hip against the marble top of the island. "Read it again." he requested, quietly- reverently. Gabriel jumped to happily oblige him. And this time with the recital, the born-again widower remembered his hands in the hard packed Georgia clay back at the prison, sweltering under the sun, trying so hard to make things grow there. He had tried so hard to make that place home until he found his home on the other side of a chain-link fence.

That prison was "haunted" by Lori and staying there would have been like living in a fallout zone. No matter how hard he fought to keep it, he lost that home because he wouldn't give up Michonne... or maybe he'd lost that home because he was always meant to leave. He had to lose it to finally close that door and open another.

He knew there was no way Gabe could know about his sad toiling on the grounds of the West Georgia Correctional Facility or out there on the road after. Alexandria's poet was not there when he was beaten and bloody- half dead- or when a knock came at the door and the sight of her, distorted through the peephole, had felt like a miraculous healing. Even as his ribs ached and the taste of blood stayed in his mouth, Rick had sank into the couch, ready to live like he had never lived before. He was ready to take on the world, but the woman who'd made him smile through the pain wouldn't let him, reminding him he'd been unconscious the day before. But he was _awake_ and now months later, he was living and truly alive.

Rick looked around the room at all the people Michonne had gotten here alive. He was one of those people. He looked at Carl with Judith now in his arms, both of them thriving and happy because his woman, their watchful warrior had one job: to keep them all hopeful. Rick's eyes started to glaze and his chest tightened with a new view to their love through the thoughtful clergyman's eyes. He cleared his throat to expel the lump of emotions lodged there, eyes still trained on the noisy living room scene. "I should prob'ly talk to _her_ about this first." he finally answered Gabriel, "Don't think I should rush it. If it comes up and it's something she wants to do. You'll be the first to know."

"Fair enough." The pious writer agreed, clutching his notebook excitedly with both hands. Gabe went back to his chair, grateful not only because he'd survived this discussion but also because he had been able to touch the heart of the stern former sheriff.

"Hey, Rick you want a beer too?" Daryl asked as he made his way to the fridge.

* * *

Rick took another sip of his beer as he stood on the back deck and looked out on the back yard of their home. The tall grass was calf-high but sparkling with little beads of rain. The clouds in the sky were racing by with a rushing breeze and the sun was dazzling but soft and warm on his face. He had left the ruckus inside to think about Michonne _and_ his life, Michonne _in_ his life- how Michonne _is_ his life. He knew what he wanted and he knew that he had it, but he wanted to be a different man for her. She deserved better than what he used to give Lori before he took a bullet in the line of duty that day. Lori deserved better than that but she just didn't know how to motivate him like Michonne did. He was grateful he had that experience to fall back on because there was no way in hell he was screwing this up. He was going to be the man pleasing Michonne in any way she needed or wanted for the rest of their time on earth, he was determined.

Gabriel was right. Rick was the kind of man who believed in marriage, monogamy, mutual exclusivity. But Michonne had just expressed apprehension about her individuality being obscured in their relationship. While Rick didn't care what other people thought, he did care how Michonne felt. He didn't think a conversation about saying actual vows would be advisable now. He would go with the flow- be organic- like she'd suggested and follow her lead. So far, that had served him well. Very well.

That matter resolved in his heart, he suddenly had a powerful urge to replace the smooth brown neck of his beer bottle with the smooth brown neck of his woman, drink from her lips and experience that true intoxication only she could give. As he turned to go find her, she was coming out the back door to find him.

"Found you." She declared with the prettiest smile.

"Let me guess... you won the game?" He estimated, with a sexy grin, based on her giddy appearance. He took another swig of beer then sat the bottle on the flat wooden hand rail behind him.

"I did. I did." She announced with a bow and advanced over the wooden planks of the terrace, her hands behind her back as she swayed her hips gracefully, without even trying.

"Of course you did. C'mere." Rick extended his hand and she reached for it happily, still keeping one hand suspiciously behind her back. "What you got there?" He inquired after her secret stash and was elated when she untucked her hand to reveal the bar in blue wrapping.

"Saw you searching. I hid the blueberry ones for you." She waved the treat back and forth in front of her face, her shoulders crowding her ears as she teased him playfully. "Carl will eat any flavor, but I know these are your favorite."

"Where'd you hide 'um?" Rick asked, watching her tear into the silver blue wrapping as she eased into his form. He trapped her between the railing and his chest, her back side flush against his front and her perfumed proximity rapidly sent his blood pumping to one place.

Michonne arched her back instinctively at the feel of him on her damaged derriere, frowning slightly at the pain but not easing away from the pressure. She was learning that she liked a little pain when she was close to him. It was like the urge to touch an electrified fence with the tips of your fingers and the thrill you get when experience that jolt of power and survive it. Who knew she'd like a little pain with her pleasure? She thought about Deanna's words that someday pain would be useful to her and she smiled to herself at that self-realization as she fondly remembered her friend. The Congresswoman from Ohio had told her to figure out what she wanted for her whole life. She never thought it would be this simple; but this was it, this was what she wanted for her _whole life_ \- being in Rick's arms with the sun on her face.

"I'm not telling you where I hid them. I have to hide them from you as much as I have to hide them from Carl." she chuckled shaking her head. "You'll just eat them all in one day. I have to ration them out to you... as I see fit." Rick slid his hand up from her waist, past her navel, between her breasts and laid his large palm at her neck, stroking her jugular with his thumb. Michonne leaned into that embrace, letting her head fall back on his shoulder while the sun rays kissed her cheeks. She broke off a piece of the cereal bar and brought it up to his lips near her neck. "Only when you've been good." she ruled bewitchingly, looking out over the dancing green grass with a smirk.

"So what did I do to deserve this one?" His other hand roamed south until he slipped his thumb into the waistband of her jeans and his other four fingers softly caressed the v-shape beneath her zipper.

"You were nice to Gabriel." She giggled as she recalled his dour expression. "I saw you struggling through that conversation. You're so cute."

"And you were no help." He accused her as he chewed and swallowed another bite.

"Hey, I was in the middle of my own awkward conversation." She argued with a shrug.

"Thought y'all were playing cards."

Michonne scoffed, "I thought so too, 'til he started asking me what my intentions are with you."

Rick laughed, "You're jokin'."

"Believe me, I wish I was. But he grilled me..." She lifted her head to look back at the love of her life who was very amused, "He grilled me and threatened me!"

"Good."

"Good?" Her eyes bucked at his approval of Daryl's behavior.

"Yeah. So you won't break my heart." Rick whispered feeling tipsy on her scent, nuzzling his scratchy beard into her neck.

She sucked her teeth and pursed her lips defiantly, "I ain't thinking about Daryl." She dismissed him and bumped her round booty against him with a dramatic pout. Recalling her conversation with the overprotective archer, she suddenly beamed, "He _did_ say I was a bad ass, though... I didn't prompt him either."

"I told you everybody knows." Rick squeezed her tighter, leaning her slightly over the rail, his need becoming more apparent as his beefy hard-on pushed onto her pronounced backside ever deeper. "Everybody knows you're takin' all this _Rick-ness_ like a champ... It's obvious only a true bad ass could handle me." He growled hot against her neck, sending her spine to shiver and every follicle to tingle.

 _He wasn't lying_.

"Ha Ha." She deadpanned, turning around to face him and popping the last of the blueberry bar in his mouth. She nonchalantly balled up the wrapper and stuck it in his jeans pocket then rested her arms on his shoulders, locking her fingers behind his neck. Rick rolled his eyes and shook his head at her mischief. "Babe, seriously, I think us being together is driving our people a little crazy. Carol and Maggie think they're Abbott and Costello, Denise lecturing us like she's ready to put us in time out, Daryl talking to me like I'm some horny high school jock and you're his 16 year old virgin daughter..." Rick's cheeks burned, cracking up at her commentary of the last few days.

"Add the church Father to the list."

"Oh! No way." Michonne gasped in shock. "Gabe too? You guys were talking about _us_ in the kitchen?"

Rick nodded. Leaving out the marriage bombshell for a more appropriate time, he explained, "He said he's inspired by us..."

"Oh... well that's sweet. I guess." She put her head on his chest and hugged his slim waist with a contented sigh.

"...to write poetry."

Michonne set her teeth on edge and crumpled her face, "Yeesh... and maybe a tad creepy..."

Rick laughed again, the echo beating against Michonne's ear from his chest, "Yeah that's what I thought too. 'Til he read something he wrote... wasn't bad."

She rocked him a little enjoying the afternoon breeze, leaning against him with her eyes closed. "What, was it like the whole 'roses are red' kinda stuff?"

"Naw. It was actually kinda romantic. Something about dirt and corpses..."

"Ah, yes! The epitome of romance..." she said sarcastically as she met his eyes again.

He grinned and the wrinkles at his eyes creased, blue orbs flashing like sparklers on the fourth of July. "No, really. It was good. I can go get'em... have 'em read it to you." Rick turned to do just that, but Michonne pulled him back to face her with her fingers in that scruffy silver beard.

"Naw," she copied his heavy country accent, her dark thick lashes flickered and he saw the auburn flecks in her eyes highlighted by the shining sun, "I'd rather hear a few lines from you."

Rick looked away timidly, "No. You wouldn't." he promised her, turning tomato red. "All I got is that 'roses are red' stuff."

Michonne gasped pretending to be shocked. "Are you gonna let..." she pulled her tightly drawn nipples higher up his body and stole a kiss, "Father Gabriel..." She pulled at his bottom lip hungrily, "out-romance you?" Michonne stood back leaning against the banister. She dragged her hands up her body, outlining her curves for him to salivate over. She pulled her hair up to the top of her head, giving him a look at her profile, the contours of her neck as her skin guzzled the light around them. " _This_ doesn't make you want to compose a verse."

"Damn, baby. You're beautiful." Rick reached for her. But she gently deflected his hand.

Michonne brought her fingers to her face and traced her thick pillowy lips. "I want some poetry." She bit her finger and took him into those bedroom eyes. "These lips don't make you want to romance the fuck out of me?" She slid her tongue out to wet her candied kisser. "They were so nice to you earlier." She winked that same 'good luck wink'.

"I remember." He breathed heavily, adjusting his swollen cock.

Michonne dropped her head back and let her locks swing between her shoulder blades as her hands crept toward her abundant breasts and tense nipples until the little dark sprouts were between her fingers, sharp under her shirt. Rick wanted to undo those buttons so badly; he could taste her honeyed skin. He tried to think of some words to rhyme... but he was hooked to her like life support- and completely brain dead. " _These two_ don't make you want to give in to the poetic side of yourself?"

Michonne pulled up the bottom of her shirt and Rick's eyes feasted on the sight of her soft onyx skin and the curve of her hips. She turned her back to him and looked over her shoulder at him, the thickness of her ass calling him proudly. The shirt she wore, bunched up, revealing the small of her back

and the dip of her spine

disappearing into the hug of her jeans

filling out, to meet the chunk of her thighs.

She gave her own hefty bottom a smack and her lion-hearted hero swallowed audibly, his eyes locked and mouth watering at the animation of that prime perfection. "Rick!" She snapped her fingers securing his dreamy eyes, once again, on her flirtatious browns. "I can't hear you." Michonne raised a brow twirling one of her dreads around her finger, "Don't I inspire you, _daddy_?"

Rick realized he hadn't known how ready he was to hear her call him that until it came drizzling off her lips like honey. He was caught in that honey, adrift in the pornographic use of such an innocent term. A low growl escaped him and he spun her around, snatching her into his heavy embrace. Michonne couldn't tease him a second longer once she felt his brutal bulge leveled against her belly and thigh. Poetry or no, she knew she had him right where she wanted: on fire and melting like wax all over her. And Michonne loved the sting of the heat.

"Roses are red." Rick said, his lips smacking on a pull from her mouth, "Violets are blue." He backed her into the railing behind her and sat her there, knocking her knees apart with his hip. Michonne gasped with a ready smile as he pulled her closer, placing his big hard cock right at her quivering center. " _Daddy_ wants one thing."

She didn't know what she'd started, but when she heard his rough voice confidently take up that title, she felt her sex growing wetter and slicker as she threaded his dark brown curls through her fingers. "Mmm." she exhaled, driving her buzzing clit against him, suddenly in a frenzied state. She completed the verse she'd been begging him for and whined, "And I want it, too."

"For the love of tits and toast!" Abraham's voice trumpeted unexpectedly. Michonne's grimacing face pulled away from Rick's and they both looked back at their interruption. Her pleasure once again foiled by the big ginger in the doorway, she thought for a split second about asking Rick to kill him… or maybe even doing the job herself.

"They're back here, folks." Abraham called to the party inside then turned back to the couple trying to catch their breath and hollered with an impressed tone, "Gotdamn, Rick! How do you do it? This is the stuff of legend. The next time I stumble in on you two mid-bang, I'll just grab a bowl of popcorn and take notes."


	10. Sunset High

**A/N: Hey Fam! So, I decided to conclude this series with this chapter. Three days of non-stop sexy times for our OTP has left me exhausted. lol I have to say I've had so much fun with you guys on this one. To everybody who favorited or followed, thank you so much. You guys are the wind beneath my wings :) And to all the hardcore fic-heads (like me) who left reviews, you always made me do my happy dance with your funny and thoughtful feedback. I made some friends in my PM's. Salute. One person's Richonne trash is a Richonne writer's treasure ;) lol (corny)**

 **I'm working on some new fics and updates for existing ones, plus I have a list of fandom authors whose works I want to explore. (And maybe I should feed my kids or talk to my husband at some point? Eh...) Love you guys and as always: Viva la Richonne!**

 **-comewithnattah**

* * *

7:53 p.m. Day 3

The evening was warm and fragrant thanks to the humidity in the air. The wooded grounds around Alexandria had drank in the moisture from the earlier downpour, leaving a thick earthy pine-like scent. Michonne had waited- or at least attempted waiting, fidgeting with the grip of her katana as she sat on her knees wearing the biggest, goofiest grin.

She was relieved no one else could see her uncontrollable, exaggerated toothy smile as he approached. Her cheeks began to burn but she couldn't help it. She could still feel the impression of his steely erection sinking into her hip from when he pulled her close. She could still taste the oaty beer on his lips and smell the hint of soap mingling with his sweat. Currently, she could see his bowed legs jogging to her down the middle of the abandoned street as dusk settled all around them. With him closer now, she could hear his lungs trying to keep up with his unabashed sprint to her willing body.

As an unexpected emotional surge swelled in her chest, she thought, _There he is-_ the vessel that carried an intimate kindness for every one of her senses to applaud: Rick Grimes.

"Judith good?" she called down to him, asking after their little squish.

"Yeah." Rick confirmed as he climbed up to her. "Maggie said Glenn needed the practice. Carl's with'um in case she gets fussy like last night."

"Good. Now, get your sexy ass up here!" She ordered the gorgeous man from King County, as he emerged from the ladder. She pulled at his plain white t-shirt like she was floating in the middle of the ocean and he was her only life line.

Instead of being on water, Michonne was in the air, high above the weedy grounds of Alexandria- floating all the same. She laid back on the plush plaid interior of the double wide sleeping bag she'd snagged from the garage. The insulated behemoth was a bitch to wash but the inconvenience of the chore paled in comparison to how badly she wanted to make a sticky, sloppy mess all over the microfiber material. It covered the wooden platform of lookout post seven, situated in a part of the community that was mostly unused as it was still under construction when the world stopped. All she could see was the sky glowing with hushed purples and dreamy pinks. Her view of the sky now included long brown curls streaked with silver, falling in her face as an equally slaphappy Rick rolled onto her body, grinning. The fool in love immediately began playfully biting at her neck, shoulders and breasts.

Michonne squealed at the ticklish attack but didn't push him away. She wiggled closer to him, in position underneath him. She was pretty much over her shyness with him. When they first started this she didn't think she'd ever get over feeling that twinge of intimidation around him. It was still there, deep in the pit of her stomach when he got close enough for her to recognize his cool musky scent. She still felt that resonate awe of him but it grabbed her now and drew her in, wrapping her tight like a spider's web. At first, it was so impossible to her that she'd gotten what she wanted, she dreaded the thought of turning him off somehow. But the more she had him, the more she realized she _had_ him. The more he flirted with her-

by slipping that miracle-working tongue over that plump bottom lip to leave a sheen that reminded her of her own wetness there-

or anytime he gifted her with the shallow dimples in his scruff-covered cheeks when she thought she was being annoying but he called her "cute"-

or his constant need to ask where she was going or if she was "okay" with some aspect of his appearance, behavior or plan-

the more she archived these little gestures, the more she saw that her powerful attraction to him was wholly reciprocated. That awareness gave her license to indulge, to use him up. She knew it would just go to waste if she didn't, because it was all for her. He belonged to _her_ and only her. The facts were: her man was sexy as hell, trustworthy, could lay professional grade pipe and, apparently, never ran out of pipe to lay. Now he had brought that big dick to her and she was about ready to crawl out of her skin in anticipation.

She caught him by the sides of his unshaven face guiding his mouth to her favorite places. "God, Rick! What took you so long?" She fussed through a moan. "We were about to miss it."

"You wanted me to make sure Abraham wouldn't interrupt us, right?" Rick reminded her, whispering with his lips at her ear. He hastily pushed her legs apart, lifting one of her thighs higher up his arm. Michonne gave a coquettish smile that Rick charged to devour.

"Yeah." Michonne conceded as he littered her entire face with little pink kisses, "So where is he?"

Rick stopped, lifting himself to kneel between her legs and remove her boots, "Long as he ain't here, do you really care?" He rasped with a skeptical eye, unbuttoning her pants. She answered with a slight shrug, shaking her head with a wicked grin. Rick lowered his head and laughed at her flippant attitude regarding the whereabouts of the serial intruder. "And _you_ call _me_ terrible..." he compared their behavior.

"Shut up!" Resting back on her elbows, still stretched out before him, she bumped his thigh with her own. "Well... Are you going to tell me what you did with him or what?" Michonne stretched her neck with impatient interest as Rick yanked around the jiggle of her ass to get her free of her jeans and panties.

"Naw." He declined. "You can go get him when'um done with you, though..." Rick laughed to himself again, remembering Abraham's bewildered look from just a short jog ago. Her blue-eyed crush rid himself of his shirt, casually giving her a view to the muscled planes of his carved torso as though the sight of him shirtless wasn't a 'thang'. "He's gonna be pissed. I'll let you deal with'em."

"Riiiiiick?" Michonne narrowed her eyes as he took her hand and pulled her up to straddle his lap. "What did you do?" she asked slowly, suspiciously.

"I did what I had to do make sure you got what you wanted... So," He threw his chin west and asked a question he already knew the answer to, "there's your sunset. Now what?"

Michonne bit her lip and shifted her eyes from his gaze pretending to think hard. "Hmm. How about..." She breathed him in as her hands wandered over his smooth hard chest, "the next round?"

* * *

Rick barreled down the block. He didn't even know he was running at first, but once he realized it he smiled agreeing with himself that it was an appropriate pace since Michonne was not far and waiting. He could still hear that word on her tongue like dessert for dinner: **Daddy**. He could still smell her on his lips and taste the body wash on her skin. He could still feel her hips in his hands, so obedient and now he could see her leaning over the wooden partition on the sentry post. Her smile was a beacon as he approached in the dimming light of day. She was a walking, talking, living, breathing emotion of his.

Love, passion, pride, inspiration, comfort... when these words were not enough, Michonne defined it all.

Rick could have predicted her first words to him as he came in earshot of her voice. Of course, her first concern was Judith and Carl, but once she was satisfied that they were fine, her next command made him permeate a tingling warmth from his heart to his stomach to his groin. He wasted no time scrambling up to her and settling himself in the cozy retreat of her thighs. He was dug in like a tick, losing his head in her. He wouldn't... he couldn't emerge until he had taken everything from her and left her full and purring.

Rick could remember that first night with her. When he'd gotten home that day, he swore all he wanted to do was turn his mind off for a while. And as they chased their release, he hoped he wouldn't give out before she did. It had been a long day. Somehow, their first kiss had rekindled the energy he had as a horny kid pawing awkwardly at Lori, but this time he had the experience to back him up. That long day turned into a long night. A night he'd known was coming. He had dragged those prismatic eyes of his up and down her body wanting to follow up with his fingers for long enough. You can't parade the little fat lamb in front of the lion forever. Soon enough, the lion's going to have a taste. And with his bite, Michonne began to hunt him as much as he hunted her.

The more Rick touched her, the more she begged to be touched- arching her back with urgency.

The more he kissed her, the more her lips found their way to his and then, more often than not, around the rigid tip of his sturdy cock.

The more he stroked her spot with his insatiable need, the more she opened for him to go deeper and _deeper_ and _**deeper**_. He would come crashing into her slippery vale until she was amazed at her own tenacity and _daring_ him to ease up with those brandy colored eyes.

 _Damn_.

The facts were: His woman was divinely beautiful, believed in him, gave him peace and there was no rehabilitation for his addiction to her. He had become literally like the junkies he used to arrest and pity, wondering how they lost control of their lives so easily. And now he knew- it was the feeling that swallowed them whole and like them, Rick was owned.

He was not ashamed to admit that as a desperate man, he'd taken a desperate action in a desperate time. And he figured Abe knew about love and the power of pussy. The crass military man would understand... eventually. But Rick did not want to spend another moment talking about Abraham Ford. He was fixated on carrying out her every request, like making love with the sunset as a backdrop. He awaited further orders with her draped across his lap.

"The next round?" He heard her ask with a languishing gloss on her words.

But he didn't move. He only raised a brow with a dismissive huff and waited, a confident smirk playing on his lips. He slid one powerful hand mindfully to her throat, the other pulled at her hip, pressing her clit firmly on that serious swell beneath his zipper. "Be good an' ask me nice." He scratched over his vocal chords with a dominating tone that sent Michonne dizzily throwing her head back, moaning and pressing her breasts explicitly toward his face. She whimpered for him to suckle them into his hot mouth, but she only felt the heat of his breath over her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. "Say it." he advised her on an undertone with a slightly dazed shake of his head.

"I want you..." Michonne gasped as he unbuttoned her shirt, freeing her breasts and placing kisses on her heart. "I **need** you inside me..."

"Say it." He repeated the ultimatum, he wouldn't make a move until she complied.

Wilting like a thirsty lily as her clit began to pulsate against him, she said it. " **Daddy**."

For her obedience, he lapped up her full breast, tugging hard with his tongue. He moved to her mouth, then her neck and ear, his tongue ruling each spot. "You wanna cum for me, don't you baby?"

Michonne rolled her eyes closed, her face still aimed at the drifting magenta clouds above. Her sex wept over his impending hardness and Rick could feel the dampness seeping through the heavy denim of his pants. She managed a shaky, "Yes, Daddy."

He made his way to her other breast. It was drawn so tight that she winced when his teeth grazed her nipple as he popped it out of his mouth. "Michonne, I wanna to hear you, baby. Tell Daddy what you want." He coaxed her with that country drawl as thick on his tongue as her nipple.

Michonne brought her dark lustful eyes to his and melted at the flames behind the blue. She breathed out roughly and worked to release him from his jeans, eager to feel him cradled heavy on her tongue. She wanted his muscled shaft stretching the corners of her mouth so badly her eyes went misty with desire. "Let me kiss it, Daddy." she asked so sweetly, making her way down his body as he watched her, absentmindedly biting his lip.

His dick emerged in the soft twilight of evening, twitching like a man full of rage. She could see the heartbeat in his length as she lowered her head without another word and covered him with her lips, cheeks and tongue. The cusp of his dripping penis slid across the roof of her mouth to the back of her throat. Rick groaned at the intense feeling. He was so hard, he lurched forward catching her by the hair to ease her off before he came right then and there. "Just a little taste, baby." He sanctioned. "I gotta fuck you. I gotta feel you cum. I have to."

He had to. He had to hear that mewling cry right before she folded. He had to feel her fingernails at the back of his neck, in his hair, while he pulled against her grip to envelop her lips. He had to feel her shudder in his arms and cream around his dick. _Oh god_ , he had to.

Michonne eagerly made love to him with her mouth full of his glistening dick until Rick stopped her, "That's enough. C'mere." He pulled her up and she whined at the loss of his taste. She was still pouting, swallowing the thin coating of precum on her tongue, when he angled his throbbing, aching inches to her slit. "You ready?"

"Please, yes, Rick. Please." She rocked her gleaming satiny opening over the crown of his cock and that was all he gave her, happy to see her writhe atop him with desire. "Please. Do it." She looked down at his veiny member... so close. It was enough to take her breath away. "Please."

Being called into action, he braced himself and ushered her savagely onto his length. He announced the decadence of her velvety wet walls with a stifled cry of her name.

"Michonne. Shit..." he struggled to say over the thunder pounding in his chest.

She hissed out a long breath over her tongue in agreement with Rick's trembling tenor. Before she could roll her sex on his electrified cock, he flipped her hotly onto her back, his ruggedly built body pushing almost painfully into hers. It was fun to say daddy during foreplay, but now his name coursed through the air.

 _ **Rick**_.

His name flashing like a neon sign in her mind and pushing past her pursed lips over and over, imprinting the architect of such overwhelming pleasure on her brain waves forever.

He propelled himself with sharp sinking thrusts, hurtling her backside into the downy-covered boards beneath her. He lifted himself on his arms to look down at the meeting of their bodies. Her legs were spread wide for him and her belly seized every time he went in reverse and she gasped for air whenever his hard fearsome dick plunged deeper. Rick put his back into it, pounding her center, the impact vibrating her g-spot.

Michonne was tight, so tight. He couldn't believe how viscerally his body reacted to the allegiant grip between her legs or the splashing friction created as she moved in time with him. She held onto him like a saddle on a rabid bull. One second she was saying his name, the next she was tensing with the force of a violently heavenly orgasm. He had never taken his eyes off her, he saw every nuance of her pleasure, from the quick-swelling build to the rippling quake of it. It threatened to sweep him away too but he wouldn't allow it to be over so soon.

As the curling release bathed her in ecstasy, Michonne turned her head to watch the slipping sun, almost out of sight but still casting a vibrant rosegold glow to the fluff of clouds hovering in the distance. The sight of the blazing disc seemingly descending into the earth made her want to fall as well, to just be lost to this feeling. But as hungry as she was for the feeling he gave her, she craved the man himself, the sight of him, even more. She turned back to Rick, whose eyes were traveling over her face canonizing every feature sculpted with her flawless ebony skin.

She peered up at him as she fought to keep her eyes open and on the man she loved, grabbing his face pulling him into a soft kiss that slowed his pace.

"I swear, you're the most beautiful thang I ever laid eyes on." He promised her, turning his attention back to the dark little nubs rising and falling between the open flaps of her shirt. He licked and nuzzled her breasts lovingly with a growling moan. "You can't be real." He said pulling out of her, still erect, to drop kisses down her abdomen. "You can't be mine." His tongue flicked out to taste that lovely dark pearl. His lips kissed the lips before him and he found his way inside her again, this time his tongue- curved and thick- dipped in.

Michonne was on board immediately and roused to assure him, "I am yours, Rick." She bucked against his face and pulled him by the hair, shamelessly deeper. "I am yours."

He brought his service back to the little batch of nerves housed in her clit, pressing against it to lick it with the broad part of his tongue then sipping it between his smooth skilled lips to suck. Simultaneously, he sucked and massaged her clit with the tip of his tongue. The otherworldly sounds pouring out of her made his dick, still wet with her juices, jump each time she screamed.

"Rick!" Michonne call out, "God! I love you." She couldn't hold back anymore, lifting her sex feverishly to his face as he devastated her with another orgasm, so powerful she begged him to stop.

And he did... only to penetrate her with his hoggish manhood again. Instead of leading a punishing momentum, he gently dragged his girth back and forth through her ultra sensitive walls. "I love you too, Chonne. You already know I do. Don't you?" He spoke over her mouth, close enough to kiss, but waiting.

She nodded. But he wasn't satisfied.

He hovered at her ear now. "Tell me. Tell me you know." He was still tenderly thrusting with purpose, her vulnerability with him bringing him so close he barely needed to moved to dispense his seed inside her.

"I know you love me Rick." Michonne answered, her words feeling like a message in a bottle to her former self: _This man loves you Michonne. The one you want wants you too. You deserve love like this. You always did._ "I know you love me, Rick."

That was all it took. Rick broke open inside her and felt a compelling force drawing him deeper, binding him. He kissed her and she received him impatiently. Then he collapsed on her chest to find his strength again but he never recovered. Michonne played in his hair, noticing the stars coming into view overhead. She felt his full weight pinning her to the floor signaling that he'd fallen asleep. She hadn't meant to say she loved him yet. But she was glad he snatched it from her and she repeated that truth to the top of his dreaming head, laying a kiss in his curls. Her eyes stayed fixed on heaven's pretty lights as she ran her palms over his hilly back and his defined arms, thrown over her.

Michonne heard him say her name, closing his arms more snugly. She answered him and waited to hear him speak again but he only repeated her name. She giggled when she realized he was dreaming about her. She listened to him mumble about her while she stared upward, eyes dilated and full of the full moon. Before long, she made her way to him in dreams of her own.

When dawn broke their positions had changed. Michonne was cuddled under Rick shivering from the early morning chill. At some point in the night, he'd cocooned them inside the sleeping bag. They hadn't meant to spend the night there and as soon as Rick's arm stretched from under the warmth, his eyes sprang open,

"Fuck! Abe!"

Michonne woke up with a start, too and covered her mouth fretfully, her eyes wide with surprise. "Where is he, Rick?" She said mid-panic pulling on her pants and boots.

* * *

7:37 p.m. Day 3

Rick and Michonne separated after Abraham's interruption. They had plans for this evening and Michonne crept away from the impromptu party to get ready, while she sent Rick to tie up loose ends.

"Hey, Abe." Rick found the big guy on the front stoop with Sasha, sitting close and talking softly. The scene made him want to get to his woman even quicker.

"What's up, Rick?" Abraham answered over the giggles of the woman beside him. She was calling him an idiot as usual for something he'd said and he sustained an elbow to the ribs for good measure.

"Hey, Sash." Rick acknowledged her, too, with a smile. She spoke back over her shoulder as he stepped out onto the front porch from the living room. He turned his attention back to Abraham, "I need your help, man." he asked regretfully. In all honestly, he loathed to break up the pair. Love was in the air, it seemed, in this place and Rick could feel it as he took a deep breath of the lingering smell of rain in the breeze.

"No problem, 'Milkman'." Abraham tested out a new nickname for the man standing over him at his back. "What is it?"

"It's nothin' big but it might take a while. Can you spare'um, Sash?" He made sure to ask Abraham's new leading lady. Rick was happy to see Sasha smiling again and to pull off this plan, he had to make sure she expected Abe to be gone awhile.

Sasha leaned in to plant a kiss under the sergeant's wild, wiry handlebar mustache, "I guess I can." She bumped his shoulder and kissed him again. "What's going on?"

Being honest and yet double-tongued, Rick answered, "Like I said, nothin' major. If all goes accordin' to plan, you'll find out about it in a bit. But you probably shouldn't wait up for him."

The two men walked away from the house side by side. Abraham was following Rick- to where, he had no idea and for what, he didn't seem interested. He had nothing on his mind but Sasha. Rick looked over and saw him blushing, presumably at something she'd said. He was so many shades of red- the ember-like tint of the short tousled curls on top of his head, the strawberry blonde of the whiskers on his lip and the deep pink spreading from his cheeks to his ears- Rick couldn't resist a comment.

"You're a lot more... red than usual. I'd think you were shit-faced if you weren't steppin' so high." Rick grinned.

"I am shit-faced. Shit-faced on life, high as an eagle's asshole. You inspire me, boy!" He clapped Rick on the back and rested his elbow on his shoulder for a few paces as they walked.

At the mention of inspiration, Rick thought of Father Gabriel and laughed inwardly, imagining the kind of poetry Abraham would write. He was relieved that, knowing Abe, he was in no danger of any odes. "I see." Rick confirmed. Abraham offered Rick a stogy from his plaid collar button-down that he'd dismally paired with his fatigues, Rick declined and the conversation went dead for about a block. Both the men in their own private daydreams. The pungent smoke burned Rick's eyes and he widened the distance between them a little.

Suddenly, it seemed, a somber mood took Abraham, Rick could tell. But he didn't pry. He almost felt bad about leading the unsuspecting man to such a stiff sentence for two counts of cock-blocking, but he was on strict orders. Michonne meant business. She left _what_ to do up to Rick but she demanded _something_ be done.

Rosita had left Eugene sitting on the floor and exited the living room as soon as Abraham and Sasha walked in. She was putting on a brave face- a pissed face, but Abraham could see she'd been crying. He'd known she would probably cry, but that was never his intent. He had ripped the band-aid off. That was always the smartest move, no sense in sipping poison- hold your nose and gulp it down, he figured. He told her she wasn't the last woman on earth, though she was damn near perfection. He knew he wasn't even close to being perfect. He'd said it that way so that maybe she'd see, with their little world getting bigger- he wasn't the last man.

All this weighing on his mind, Abraham broke through the friendly silence, thinking out loud, "Pops always did say 'you gotta crack a couple heads to make an omelette'.

"What's that?" Rick perked up from his musings about Michonne's curves- at the moment, her lips. "Isn't it 'crack a few _eggs_ ' to make an omelette?" He corrected.

"Not if you knew my pops." Abraham joked without his usual jovial tone. He and Rosita had been through a lot together, watching each other's backs, playing mommy and daddy to Eugene, finding their individual places in Rick's group and now, in this new place... Abraham felt a sadness about it too and he wanted to think about something else. He was never one to wallow. He wanted to think about love, hope and the promise of the future. Who better to do that with than Michonne's man and father of two, Rick Grimes. There was a lot of love in his life, a lot of hope, looking forward to the future. "He wasn't a man like you." Abe said of his father, handing Rick an honest compliment. "Your kids are lucky." He trailed.

"Thanks Abraham." Rick acknowledged, feeling somewhat odd at the sentimental mood of the biggest goon in Alexandria.

He popped his cigar back into his mouth, forming words around it, fixed between his teeth. "Looks like you and Michonne are working on a litter."

Rick chuckled and shook his head at the image of an 'Aunt Debbied-Michonne". "Well, we gotta even the playing field with these walkers, right." He was surprised to hear himself agree with Abraham and be much more forthright than he'd been with Denise.

"Amen to that," Abe said proudly, "Fuckin' A. I'll leave the shitty Huggies to you and Korea's finest, though. I'm just trying to bust a nut... you know, like normal people do." He laughed.

But the look Rick gave him as he flexed his salt and pepper jaw let Abraham know to tread lightly. If he thought he was gonna use the walls of Alexandria to bed hop and break hearts just to sow his wild oats, Rick's face said he should reconsider. "Meaning what, exactly?" Rick asked with narrowed eyes betraying that he stood squarely in Sasha's corner and wasn't about to allow any disrespect.

"Don't get me wrong," Abe was quick to amend, snatching his cigar out of his mouth and smoothing a hand down his mustache, "It's not _just_ about bustin'... a... that. I'm just sayin' the stork can lose my address, you know. That's all. Shit." He danced his way out of Rick's death glare. "Before you go grabbin' your murder coat..." Abraham confessed, "She hasn't even let me stir the coffee yet, let alone add any creamer."

Rick chuckled and rolled his eyes at his friends ever descriptive turn of phrase. "Can't say I blame her." Rick thawed.

"She says I have to keep my nose clean, fly right and convince her. Everybody ain't as pretty as you. Some of us don't have it as easy as America's Next Top Sheriff. I mean, I got the blue eyes," He said looking at Rick in comparison, "But I guess the red hair and pasty white skin makes me a talking American flag."

Rick laughed again.

"I guess the Star Spangled Banner doesn't get chicks off anymore."

"I don't think it ever did but..." Rick shook his head, his laughter finally resting in an amused smile. "And don't think it was so easy for me, man. I been waiting along time for this."

"And it's worth the wait?" Abraham asked even though he already knew. He knew he would hold his dick as long as she wanted him to and when he finally got the green light, the rockets red flare and bombs bursting in air would be like soda fizz compared to the fireworks he was going to make for Sasha.

"It's so worth the wait, you never want to wait again." Rick swore with particular meaning as they turned the corner down another street, getting further and further from the occupied houses. "Makes you do crazy thangs."

Rick and Abraham continued to chew on the subject of women, sex and love until they got to the last three-story house on the empty block. "This is what I wanted to show you." Rick tilted his head to an extension ladder leading to the roof. "Up here." Rick went up first and Abraham followed. When they got to the slightly sloped roof Rick looked off into the distance then turned to Abraham, "What do you think? You see it?"

"See what?"

Rick gave a disappointed sigh in what really was an award worthy performance. He looked around the roof, expectantly, by their feet. "Shit, I left the binoculars. Just stay right here. I'll get'um." He said already climbing down. "You just stay here and get a feel for this spot."

After a few beats of doing just that Abe called to Rick over his shoulder, curious now, "Why? What you thinkin'?" Was he thinking a new look out post? Or did he see something useful over the walls? As he wondered, Abraham heard the startling metallic bang of the ladder being lowered. He moved quickly to the edge and looked over. Rick was moving the ladder and walking it down, rung by rung, until it laid flat in the grass. "What the fuck, Milkman?" Abe shouted more in shock than anger.

"Sorry, Abraham. I'll be back to get you in a little while." Rick told him in an apologetic tone. "Just stay here... finish your cigar and... enjoy the sunset." Rick said as he ran off to Michonne, his boots pounding hard against the asphalt.

Abe didn't beg or try to call him back. Rick had that look of desperation and whatever he was up to, Abe knew nothing he said would change his mind. He watched him over the line of shingles and chimneys until he rounded the corner out of sight. "Run like the wind, you wet dick fucker." Abraham reverently mumbled to himself. He felt oddly inspired by Rick's nerve and the size of his balls. He sat on the soggy roof, finding the low lying sun and taking another pull from his cigar. He followed Rick's advice to enjoy the scene, though he was completely befuddled by 'his Inspiration's' insane actions. Abraham Ford had carried out more than his share of crazy of schemes. Being an expert in this arena, there was only one thing he could think of that pushed all men off the edge of reason. He wasn't sure how Rick's behavior added up, but he had one hope-

"This sure as shit better be for pussy. And he'd better thrash said pussy." Abe sighed to himself, "Next time I see Michonne, Rick better be pushing her around in a fuck'n wheelbarrow."


End file.
